100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra
by Dana Keylits
Summary: A series of somewhat related ficlets that follow the adventures of Kate and Castle as they work their way through the book, "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra." Expect the unexpected! Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Andrew W. Marlowe and company, with whom I am, unfortunately, not affiliated.
1. The Erotic V

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

* * *

**A/N: This was originally going to be a _daily_ series of somewhat related ficlets to get us through the summer hiatus. But it was a much bigger job than I imagined, so now I will update it as often as I can, but probably not daily. This is rated M, but not every ficlet will _be_ M rated. I will also, on occasion, have some wonderfully talented guest writers contribute to this project (I'm looking at _you,_ Liv and Kristy! Mwahahaha! You thought I'd forgotten about it, eh?). So if you are a Castle writer and would be interested in writing one of the installments, please let me know! ****Each ficlet will be between 500 and 2,500 words. **

**These stories take place during season five, _before_ the finale, and will not address "the proposal" (I am choosing to ignore the proposal because I'd rather let AWM handle it than attempt a guess at what is going to happen myself). ****If you want to see what the positions look like (I promise it's not graphic, I know, too bad), you can do a google search, type in "100 sex positions of the Kama Sutra" or find me on Twitter ( krdaniels) and I'd be happy to send you the link to the webpage.**

**I hope you'll enjoy reading these as much as I've enjoyed writing them! **

**And now, on to the story! **

* * *

**Chapter One  
****_The Erotic V_**

"**W**hat's this?" she asked, holding the red-wrapped package in her hand, her face a veneer of confusion. It wasn't her birthday, or their anniversary; she hadn't done anything particularly gift-worthy recently, except for, well, the other night when she did that thing with her legs; a lopsided smile bowed her lips as her mind wandered back in time to their carnal exploits from the week before.

"I saw it at the bookstore in Minneapolis when I was at that signing last week. I picked it up." He edged closer to her, lowering his voice. "…thought we could have some fun with it." He pointed at the square package, his bright blue eyes glistening with mischief, their corners adorned with impish lines. "Open it, Beckett. It's a gift."

She shook the package; it was solid, a book, or maybe a cutting board, but why would he give her a cutting board? She slid one slender finger beneath the seam of the red paper, carefully dislodging the tape, but when Castle exhaled loudly beside her, she ripped the rest of the paper off, balled it up, and absently tossed it into the trash bin tucked neatly beside the kitchen counter.

It was a book. She flipped it over to read the title.

_One Hundred Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra_

She glanced up at him suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. "Uh huh. This is a gift for _me_?"

He advanced behind her, a crooked grin decorating his face, "Well, for us," he teased, fingering the edges of the book, his hips playfully brushing against her backside.

"For us," she whispered, amused, her body responding to the contact of his hips like they were a pair of nestling magnets. "I assume by giving me this, you're going to want us to try all one hundred positions?"

"Are you implying we can't?" He asked, his mouth rearranging into a lopsided grin, his eyes flecked with challenge.

"I dunno, you're getting to be an old man, Castle. A daughter in college..." She shook her head playfully, a kittenish grin teasing her lips as she heard a _wha? _come from him behind her.

"I can handle it if you can, _Detective_," He stated, his voice tinged with wounded pride. He pushed his hips against her more firmly and she had to grab at the counter edge to brace herself. He smiled knowingly when a gust of air rushed past her lips.

She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, giving the arousal that was building within her time to settle in, fill in all of the spaces. Her cheeks growing crimson, her body tingling with a slow, but building undercurrent, she whispered his name and then leaned forward, forcing her backside against his groin, savoring the _oh_ that lurched from him.

She turned around slowly, excruciatingly slowly, as though punishing him, and trailed her hands up the broad expanse of his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles that crisscrossed over his plum colored oxford shirt. Her eyes slowly rose, examining the vee of his throat, inching up to his lips, where they lingered, before finally rising to meet the blue of his eyes. She cocked her head to one side, one corner of her mouth inched upwards as she stared at him from beneath the long fan of lashes that framed her hazel, teasing eyes. She skimmed her thumb over his bottom lip before softly kissing him. "Let's do it," she whispered against his mouth.

She felt his answer as it grew hard against her hip, and she laughed, glancing down between them.

They parted, immediately missing the contact of their bodies, prompting the shared arousal humming between them to protest loudly, and then Kate picked up the book and turned to the first page.

_The Erotic V_.

Castle grinned. Kate frowned. "This is much more work for me, than it is for you," she complained, the heavy book tottering on her palms as she held it in front of them.

"Really? You're balking at the _first_ one? How are we ever to get through all one-hundred?" He whined dramatically, proving, yet again, that he was indeed his mother's son.

She bit the inside of her cheek and set the book down on the counter behind her. "Fine." She reached out, gathering the collar of his shirt into both fists as she positioned him in front of her, her back against the counter. "Let's have a go at this," she challenged, her fingers slipping the top translucent button on his shirt through its companion hole. She briefly scraped his exposed skin with her fingernail as she chin-nodded behind him. "We'll do it there," she indicated the dining room table and his eyebrows shot up, the pink of his cheeks turning to red.

She shuffled him backwards, her fingers leisurely unbuttoning his shirt, her eyes flickering from his lips to his throat, to the small curls of hair on his chest. She was enjoying herself, especially pleased with the affects of her sudden seduction when he stumbled backwards, a series of incomprehensible sounds rising from his throat.

They landed at the table, a whispered _oomph_ thrust from Castle's lungs as the table hit the back of his thighs.

"Ready?" she asked, his shirt completely unbuttoned allowing her hands to roam beneath it, her palms tracing each rise of muscle over bone, her fingers strumming the ladder of his ribcage before tracing an ever more dangerous course along the soft rise of his abdomen.

He flinches, "Wha? Kate. Whoa. Yes, wow."

She kissed him, their lips soft and full, and she relaxed against the firm press of his mouth. Her body progressed towards him like church bells were calling her in, and the sanctuary of their kiss compelled her. She slipped her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth, teased the dangerous sharp edges of his teeth before meeting with his tongue in a languid ballet. He took her lower lip with his teeth and pulled, then sucked her into his mouth, making her wish he could inhale _all_ of her.

He held her lip between his teeth for the briefest of moments – both danger and delight coursed through her - and then released it. Kate pulled back and gasped, staring at him with hooded eyes, a silent ringing in her ears.

"I'm ready, baby." He replied hoarsely, having finally found solid footing.

She felt unhinged, her moist eyes staring into his, and she grabbed his waist with both hands and spun them 180 degrees, so now _her_ thighs were pressed against the table. They found each other again, their lips meeting, muscle beneath flesh, exploring and daring each other.

He studied every inch, every curve and angle of her body with his own, and with unsteady hands he inched her worn green t-shirt up and over her head, their lips parting only long enough for the soft cotton fabric to pass between them.

Her fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, before her hands returned to the bare skin of his chest, caressing, tickling, scratching, kneading his flesh until his skin turned pink with anticipation; his urgent, ready, _need_, pressed against her belly.

She looked down, grinning. "So fast, Castle."

He moaned into her mouth, "It's you," he replied.

She could hear God whispering, reaching deep within her soul, telling her _this_, _her _with _him,_ was worth every risk, every measured and deliberate act to defy the wall that existed within her, so that she could experience the perfection that is the most basic of human instincts.

Love.

She was suddenly overcome with an urgent sense of unrestrained desire, an immediate _need_ for him, and in a flourish, she was out of her jeans and underwear and tugging at the waistband his jeans. Glancing up at him, her eyes swimming with lust, she pulled his jeans down, until they gathered at his ankles and he stepped out of them, then she hooked her thumbs beneath the hem of his boxers.

"Off!" She demanded, her voice hoarse and rough and threaded with hunger. He placed his hands on hers, and together they guided his boxers down, her eyes darting down to watch as his penis sprang free. She licked her lips involuntarily, and looked back up at him. He was staring at her, carnal affection bathing in the deep blue of his eyes, and his mouth captured hers, he kissed her hard but his lips were soft and he tucked her hair behind her ears while his tongue explored the sweet chamber of her mouth. She slipped his shirt off his shoulders and it fell in a heap behind them.

His hands mapped a chaotic path over her bare skin, finding the clasp of her bra, and deftly removed this last vestige of synthetic blend between them.

She clambered onto the table, her back arching, her body humming, he dipped down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking, nipping, pulling on it as she groaned and writhed beneath him, her fingers creating Zen-garden-like lines in his hair. Then he rose up, looking into her eyes, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

"You ready?"

"Ready," she replied, her arms braced on the table behind her for support.

"Okay, up," he instructed, and she lifted her legs straight up while he grabbed her calves. Then he placed her long, shapely, _perfect _legs on each side of his shoulders, and he looked down at her body as it glistened before him, bathed by the soft light of the overhead lamp. He slid his hands up along her thighs, his palms tracing her iridescent flesh. She felt a jolt of energy vibrate through her as his wrists hit the surf line of her hips.

He mapped her upper body, not missing an inch, as she threw her head back, her fingers turning white as they struggled to find purchase with the hard table. He curled his fingers around her biceps, and then lifted her arms until she had her fingers linked behind his neck.

She was in the perfect V.

He leaned forward, lifting his hips, and slowly guided himself into her, taking his time, aroused by the crimson of her cheeks, her parted lips, her eyes half-lidded and glassy. She moaned, her head gently rolling back until her long chestnut hair tickled her back, sending thousands of tiny shivers in a footrace down her spine.

"Ohhhhhh. God. Castle. That feels..." She rocked her hips, "...fucking incredible!" she finished.

He didn't make her wait, thank heavens, and he shoved inside of her fast and hard. Faster, and harder. In and out. And in. And out. So many times, and so fast that she thought she was going to spin out of control, so unaccustomed to her body responding in such a brutal and primal way.

And then he stilled. Expertly pulling almost completely out of her before easily, sowly, excruciatingly, agonizingly, sliding back in.

Their mouths met again, his tongue exploring, spreading her lips apart, seeking _her_ tongue in an unpracticed, though perfectly coordinated, dance, all while he resumed a slow, deliberate cadence, increasing his pace only infinitesimally.

Her body pink and vibrating, her eyes closed, head thrown back, breasts heaving, nipples erect, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up. He felt a building, a gathering storm within, and he wanted her to come before he released it. He picked up his pace, whispering sexy nothings to her.

She opened her eyes, grinning at him, "Are you talking dirty, Castle?"

He growled. "Is it working?"

"Oh yes," she sighed, "It's, ahhhhh. It's working." Her breathing changed, becoming labored, thready, and she felt all of the blood in her body gather _there,_ ready for sudden and sweet release.

Her rib cage expanded as her diaphragm dilated, and with barely a warning, the orgasm echoed throughout her body, from her curled painted toes, through the vee of her body, to the top of her head. She closed her eyes, a barely audible moan rising from her throat before a sound escaped her chest, originating from the deepest part of her, the most perfect, beautiful song that ever graced her lips, and it rose into the air between them, floating above them before vanishing into the ether.

Her body was a quivering mess, a satiated mass of pleasured flesh, and bone, and blood, shuddering beneath him. Her brain no longer had control over the muscles of her arms and legs and she was afraid she'd fall off the table. But he had her, held her, as her body shuddered and quaked and trembled against him, before finally calming, relaxing, recovering from the violent orgasm that had rippled through her.

And when she'd caught her breath, when her eyes had met his and her head had done that little nodding thing that always told him she was ready for him, he picked up his pace again, thrusting into her, gathering speed, feeling his own climax building, higher and higher, soaring, until, in a thunderous storm of pain and pleasure, he cried out, her name bouncing off the walls as he came.

She gripped him with strong but elastic muscles, coaxing with great discipline every last bit of the orgasm from him. Her lips finding his, diving in heart-first, reaching down from a well-hidden place that, despite her best efforts, he had managed to venture in.

And, then, spent, empty, he carefully pulled out of her and gently took her ankles in both hands and helped lower her feet to the floor. They coiled around each other and just stood there, bare naked on her cold dining room floor, arms and legs holding tightly, her head resting against the hard muscle and bone of his shoulder, her lips grazing his neck as she nuzzled against him.

And, something about the way she was leaning into him, her slight frame inexplicably heavy against his, made him want to protect her. He wanted her to know that she could stay there, nestled against him, for as long as she wanted, for as long as she needed. He would hold her, cradle her, he would protect her from the outside world. This was the place where she could be vulnerable and safe at the same time, and he desperately hoped she knew that.

As though reading his thoughts, she burrowed even further into him, a whispered sigh skidding past her lips, a soft shudder rippling throughout her body, and she purred against him.

"Mmmm, Castle. I think I like my present. I think I like it _very much._"

He held her tighter, their bodies quietly swaying in a semi-circle. "I'm glad," he chuckled.

She looked up at him, her eyes a playground of want and need and _fun_. "One down, Castle, ninety-nine to go. Think you can handle it?"

"If I can't, I'll die trying!" he promised.

She laughed, framing his face with her hands and peppering him with a series of small kisses. Then she led him by the hand to her kitchen counter.

"Let's see what the second position has to offer."

* * *

**A/N: To see this position you can do a google search. Just type in "100 sex positions of the Kama Sutra", or find me on Twitter ( krdaniels) and I will be happy to give you the website link.**


	2. The Rocking Horse

**100 Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Two  
The Rocking Horse**

**"Y**ou're serious with this. You really want to do this _every day_ for one-hundred days?" She asked, accepting the mug of coffee he'd prepared just for her. She plopped down on a stool at his kitchen counter.

"Yeah! Why not?"

She fingered through the pages, "Castle, some of these are really complicated!" she complained. "What if I start walkin' funny?"

He snorted, "Oh, c'mon Kate. They're not that bad, you do yoga don't you?"

"Yeah, but no one's trying to get inside my _pants_ when I'm practicing yoga."

"If you think it's your _pants_ I'm interested in, we have bigger problems than you just _walking_ _funny_." He waggled his eyebrows.

She punched him in the bicep.

He snatched the book from her hands and closed it, setting it on top of the counter with a loud _thump_. "Besides, you shouldn't be looking ahead. Let's keep it a day-to-day surprise."

She rolled her eyes, and then reached over the counter to playfully pinch his stomach. "You might wanna hit the gym, then, Romeo, because some of those are going to require a lot of _strength_ and _balance,"_ she laughed, leaning back to take a sip from the steaming mug. A kittenish grin played across her features and she chuckled at the wounded expression on his face.

"Good morning, darlings!" Martha shouted from the top of the stairs. "Is everyone appropriately _dressed_?"

They immediately jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion of Castle's inquisitive mother, and simultaneously grabbed at the Kama Sutra book in a desperate bid to conceal it from her probing eyes. Instead, they sent it flying off the counter where it skittered across the floor, landing at the foot of the stairs just as Martha stepped off the last step.

Her eyes dropped down, then glided amusingly back up at the pair, both of whom were frozen in their spots, their faces contorted into expressions of embarrassed horror.

One hand in the air as though pointing out the obvious, she said, "Richard, darling, I don't think you have the stamina to keep up with most of what's in that book." She picked it up and walked it over to a crimson-cheeked Kate. Leaning in, she whispered, "I hate to say it, dear, but in case you haven't noticed, he's not the most _flexible_ man." She shot an amused look at her son as she headed to the coffee maker, "You really need to be _bendy_ to properly engage in the Kama Sutra; perhaps some yoga classes will help you, darling?" She patted him on the shoulder.

Kate bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing, her face a deep shade of red, as Castle hung his head in utter resignation, "Thank you, Mother. For once again scarring me with your inappropriate advice."

* * *

**S**he was surprised by how quickly her body responded to the change between them.

As soon as her shift was over, they'd raced back to her place, the ride up the elevator taking an interminably long amount of time. They would have been on each other like white on rice _then_ were it not for Kate's elderly neighbor riding up with them.

Castle helped bring the woman's groceries into her apartment, taking time to help her unpack them into the small refrigerator, and then stocking her shelves with the canned goods. When he was done, the reusable bags hung neatly in the front closet and the woman's door securely closed, he chased Kate down the short hallway to _her_ front door, where, once they were inside, they _flew_ at each other, arms and legs coiled around one another, his lips pressed along the column of her neck, her fingers raking random patterns through his hair.

The clothing between them a barrier they could no longer abide, they quickly abandoned them, articles of clothing being strewn around her front foyer in a haphazard path. If they had been a cartoon they'd have been nothing but a whirling, blurry tornado, sketched in crazy lines and colors, pants, and shirts, and underwear flying through the air in every direction.

Stumbling, naked, their mouths against each other in a manic unabashed kiss, they made their way to the bedroom, tripping over furniture and leaving a trail of knocked over lamps, picture frames, books and knick-knacks in their wake.

Kate pushed him onto the bed, her eyes hooded with lust, her lips bowed in fevered anticipation. It washed over her, so quickly, her desire for this man, the raw carnal need she had for him.

"Sit up," she ordered, pulling the _Kama Sutra_ book from her leather satchel and opening it to page two. She climbed onto the bed, "you have to sit like this," she pointed to the illustration on the page.

He crossed his legs, then placed both palms on the mattress behind him, bracing himself against the bed.

She climbed into his lap, onto her knees as she straddled him, her perfectly peach-shaped bottom resting in the cradle of his folded legs. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, a lump in her throat, she was excited, _beyond_ excited and she wondered silently to herself how this happens every time, every time she is with him it's like it's her _first_.

"Castle?" Her chameleon eyes captured his, the play and swing of her body creating a sense of urgency between them, "Pay attention." His lips parted, his breath bated. She grinned the grin of the devil. "Cuz I'm gonna _ride_ you like a Harley on a bad piece of road."

He gasped, wide-eyed, his lips shaping into an utterly bewitched smile and she quickly rose to her knees, thrusting her breasts inches from his face, her fingers tousling his hair as she pulled his head towards her.

He greedily took one breast into his mouth and sucked, _hard_, immediately rewarded by the feel of her nipple tightening, rising, pleading for more. He grazed his teeth over it, swirling his tongue, before carefully biting down, pulling, and then quickly releasing it. She moaned, her hands framing his face as he moved to the other breast, giving her more of the same.

She slowly lowered herself, easing onto him, taking her time, teasing, sliding down him in a measured, tortuous approach, until the full length of him filled her. She tossed her head back, her chestnut hair cascading down her back, tickling her spine. She made a noise that reminded him of a cat purring contentedly.

His life's breath escaped in one long, deliberate sigh that emanated from deep within his chest and tumbled past his lips, warming her already tepid skin. He waited for her soft gyrations to begin, but, she was still, calm, unmoving, as though she were in a trance, meditating, waiting, wanting, praying, elastic muscles gripping him, then loosening, then gripping him again. He was about to wiggle his hips, ask her if she was okay until finally, slowly, deliberately, she inched her pelvis up, her hands against his chest, and then eased back down.

She was filled with him, her body, her mind, soul, heart, life. She could not get him deeply enough inside of her, could not get close enough, have enough, _be_ enough. She was spellbound, transformed by the erotic scent of him, his masculine lines and sharp angles, his strength and tenderness that were equal parts reassuring and terrifying.

She felt the first tickle of tears as they bubbled to the surface of her eyes and she rocked against him. Slowly, carefully, at first, but as the tension climbed within her, she moved more quickly, her solid muscles supporting a swift, even cadence against him.

And he was moaning, panting, his breath fluttering against her neck and chest, warming her, reassuring her, coaxing her forward, upward, higher and higher until she was close.

And then she stopped.

His eyelids flew open. She was staring at him, her expression unreadable, her eyes misty and unfocused, stormy, intense. Her lips were slightly parted, her hands still resting firmly against his chest, she was panting, praying, waiting. She leaned in and kissed him, breathing into him, sobbing, her tongue parting his lips in desperate exploration. He brought one hand up, cradled the back of her head, returning the kiss with a fevered appetite.

She resumed rocking, her teeth having captured his bottom lip, her pelvis rocking, rocking, back and forth, in and out. Pleasure building within her, a knowing tickle in her belly cascading throughout her body, the tension building, climbing higher and higher, a thin sheen of sweat covered her stimulated flesh. She let go of his lip, brought her hands around his neck for support, and then, without warning, pounded into him.

He cried out, surprised, her name echoing from the walls of the room, the intensity of her thrusts startling him, making him feel off balance and crazy, and he knew he was too near his own sweet release. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating, needing her to come, forcing his thoughts to focus only on her, ignoring the almost _painful_ need of his own body.

She suddenly, violently, pushed back, her fingers digging carelessly into his skin and her whole body shuddered as she orgasmed. The room trembled too, as if they were in the middle of an off-the-Richter-scale earthquake. She beckoned his name, shouted it, over and over and over.

"Castle!" panting, "Castle!" crying, "Castle!" gasping

She collapsed onto him, her arms around his neck, and she continued to rock, her cheek resting on top of his head as she clung to him. He pressed his lips against her throat, biting her flesh, nipping, nibbling, tasting the salty goodness of her moistened skin.

She rocked gently, purposefully, tilting her pelvis against him so she could prolong her orgasm, even as she knew she must increase her rhythm so _he_ could come.

And, she _needed_ him to come, needed to feel his body's release, needed to know it was _her_ that did that to him.

As if her thoughts had been mumbled like a Gregorian chant in the quiet room, she felt his body tense, his muscles grow rigid, his pelvis rise to meet her, and then, in perfect release, a strangled sob plunged past his lips and he exploded inside of her.

She coaxed him, all of him, until his release was complete, and he moaned, cried, _wailed_ her name in urgent appeal. She held him tightly, her arms practically squeezing the breath out of him.

And when they were still, their breathing even and normal, she could feel him go soft inside of her and she slid off of him and collapsed limply onto the bed. He stretched out beside her, sliding his leg so it rested between hers and she cuddled towards him, her head on his shoulder.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Yeah," she replied.

"That was..." he began.

"Amazing," she finished.

He smiled, then laughed, a bubbly, bright, almost boyish laugh, and she joined him, their combined laugher a chorus that spiraled between them.

And when they finally caught their breath, she glanced at him, her lips meeting his in a soft, quick kiss. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"I am definitely gonna be walking funny tomorrow."

**A/N:** **If you would like to see what this position looks like (it's a cartoon, so not graphic), you can google "100 sex positions of the Kama Sutra" or follow me on Twitter ( krdaniels) and I will happily give you the link to the website. **


	3. The Catherine Wheel

**100 Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits**  
**

**Chapter Three  
****The Catherine Wheel****  
**

"**C**astle, why are you giving me a banana? I asked for an apple," Kate complained as she fired up the computer and shuffled through the pile of paperwork that had inexplicably piled itself on her desk.

"I got us _both_ bananas. We're gonna need the potassium," he explained.

She held the banana limply in her fingers, a quizzical expression on her face as he plopped down in his chair, resting his elbow against her battered desk.

"Do I even _want_ to know why?"

"Didn't you peek at today's," he glanced nervously around the room and lowered his voice, "..._position_?"

"No," she played the banana around her fingers and looked at him like he'd finally lost his mind.

"Kate, it's a contortionists nightmare!"

She laughed. "So, what does that have to do with needing a banana?" She gripped it with her fist, squeezing slightly.

"The potassium will prevent muscle cramping," he explained, as though she should know that, as though _everyone_ should.

"Ah," she answered, gradually peeling the banana and gently easing it into her mouth. She closed her lips seductively around it, letting it linger, her playful eyes sparkling at him, decorated with bright flecks of green and gold.

Castles stopped mid-peel, holding his banana suspended in front of him as his eyes traveled to her lips, his expression slack-jawed. "Oh, you tease," he whispered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

She bit down, chewed and swallowed before answering. "Whatever do you mean?" She blinked, throwing one of _those_ looks his way.

* * *

**H**e wasn't kidding. It really _was_ a contortionist's nightmare. "How are you supposed to even get your leg to _fold_ that way?"

He examined the illustration, his forehead rearranging itself into crisscrossing lines. "I don't know. But let's try," he pleaded, his fingers already working the buttons of her blouse.

She slapped his hand away, "Castle! Isn't your mother upstairs?"

"Yes, my dear, she is." Martha interjected from mid-way down the stairs. "And, I can tell you right now," she pointed at the open book resting on the dining room table between them, its page turned to _The Catherine Wheel_ position, "that there is no way Richard is going to get his leg to _bend_ like _that_."

Castle dropped his forehead onto the table while Kate hastily closed the book, flipping it over so the back cover faced up, her cheeks quickly turning crimson.

"Mother!" he implored, banging his head against the table. "Why do you have to _do_ that to me?" He looked up, his face bright red, his eyes blazing with humiliation.

She had reached the base of the stairs and paused, her coat draped across her shoulders, her red leather gloves loosely gripped in one hand. "Do what, darling?"

He ground his teeth, the muscles of his jaw tensing and rippling. Kate was staring at a spot on the table, hoping against hope that Martha would just keep moving. "It is so inappropriate! You are my _mother._"

"Richard, honey, I am just looking out for your best _interests_," she smiled, completely nonplussed by the couples reaction. "I'd hate for you to hurt yourself, or worse, hurt _Kate_."

Kate whimpered, not taking her eyes off the spot on the table.

"Besides, it's not like you haven't been witness to some of my..."

"Okay, I've heard enough." He held up a staying palm to stop her. He lowered his voice. "I take it by your manner of dress," he swept his hand up and down her outfit, which was all pink and neon-green sequins, "that you are going out for the evening?"

"Yes, Richard, I am going _out_ for the evening, so you and Kate have the whole loft to yourselves."

He sighed with relief.

"But let me suggest you skip that position and go straight to page six, the _Nirvana_ position. Much more satisfying for Kate, and an easy one for you, darling."

Castle rearranged his hand into the shape of a gun and pointed it at his temple, looking at Kate with apologetic pleading eyes. "Kill me. Please. Kill me, now."

"Good night, kids. Have fun!" Martha threw over her shoulder before _click_-_clacking _her heels out the front door.

Castle pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger while Kate puffed up her cheeks, emitting a long, steady, pained breath. "Well," she started, her eyes wide, folding her hands together and tucking them beneath her chin, "I think it's safe to say there will be no sex happening in here tonight, right, Castle?"

"God." He moaned.

She took his hand, standing, "C'mon. Let's go watch TV."

* * *

**A**n hour into the movie, admittedly not the most exciting film they'd ever seen, Castle had fallen asleep and was gently snoring beside her. They'd piled pillows against the two massive leather chairs in his study, and were curled up together on the floor, the thick shag carpet providing them with a soft mattress on which to lie. The room was dark, only the ambient moonlight spilling in through the long windows, casting shadows across the floor, and the blinking light from the shifting scenery on the television illuminating the room.

Castle was on his back, Kate coiled around him, her head resting on his shoulder, a fluffy blue cotton blanket thrown over them. She glanced up at his serene sleeping face, a wave of untainted affection sweeping over her like a gust of summer wind, and she blinked.

_I love this man,_ she thought, her chameleon eyes faraway and misty. _I truly love this man._

She skated her hand over the broad span of his chest, smoothing down the lines that had formed on his once crisply-ironed green oxford shirt, and then tilted her head to lightly press her lips against his shoulder. She scooted up on one elbow, her lips finding the column of his throat as her hand traveled across his chest and down his other side; she tucked it between his back and the floor.

"Mmmm," he moaned, opening one eye to look down at her. "Kate," he dispatched one large hand to caress her back. "That is a _very_ enjoyable way to wake up," he said.

She continued to pepper him with small, quick kisses, making her way up his throat, his jawline, before pressing her lips against his, where they lingered, her tongue darting out to briefly meet his in a dreamy wanton ballet.

She pulled away, her face still inches from his, her eyes darting from his lips to his baby blue's. "Martha's out all night?" she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.

"Mmmm hmmm," he answered. "She will undoubtedly be doing the walk of shame sometime in the wee hours of morning. Judging by the way she was dressed, anyway." He shuddered briefly at the recent mortifying memory of his mother's completely inappropriate interest in his sex life.

Kate chuckled, her finger tracing a thin bowed line along his bottom lip, her eyes following their path. He reached for her hand with his and slowly guided her finger into his mouth, first the tip, then the knuckle, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked, eddied his tongue in a whirly haphazard pattern, daring her with his teeth, before finally, reluctantly, letting go.

She tasted like vanilla.

And cherries.

Kate grinned, the familiar tickle between her legs an immediate response to his devious seduction. Refocusing, she stuttered, "Uh huh, so, we have time, then?"

His hand skimmed further down her back, his fingers tripping along her spine, his palm smoothing out against the delightful slope just above her ass. "The Catherine Wheel?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Mmmm," she shook her head, smiling wryly at him, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I had something else in mind."

Before he could respond, she had thrown the blanket aside and swung her leg around to straddle him. He looked up at her, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted, his Adams apple bobbing up and down as he dryly swallowed.

With nimble fingers, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, mapping her hands along his bare torso before leaning down and licking first one nipple, and then the other. When he gasped, she smiled against his tepid skin. Aroused by _his _arousal. Then she quickly unbuckled his belt, popped the button of his jeans, her eyes slowly ascending his body, stopping briefly on their journey to enjoy the sight of his bare strapping chest, the dip in his throat where she could see the rapid rise and fall of his heartbeat, his soft swollen lips that were slightly parted in the shape of an O, before meeting his hooded gaze. His eyes were piercing, dark against the white, as though the bright baby-blue had magically changed to midnight; bewitched that way by some carnal spell.

She grinned, the excitement in her belly spreading throughout her body, and as she watched him, their eyes trained on each other, she grabbed the tongue of his zipper and slowly pulled.

He was already hard.

She smiled.

He groaned.

She reached for him beneath his crisp white, very expensive, boxers, scooting down his legs until she was kneeling over his calves. With a girlish lilt of her eyebrow, she tucked her hair behind both ears and then leaned down and took him into her mouth, her tongue frisking over his already moistened tip, her hand curling around him, stroking, caressing, establishing a smooth rhythm.

He let out a slow, raw, guttural moan, his brain barely able to comprehend what was happening to his body, and he was worried he'd lose consciousness. One hand flew behind the pillow beneath him, his fingers gathering the rough fabric into a white-knuckled fist. The other he used to gently cradle her head. This was unexpected, _she_ was unexpected, and as she surrounded him, provoked him, coaxed him with her soft lips and teasing tongue, he felt the sky unfold on his body and a slow moan, the sweetest sound his diaphragm could produce, ascend from his belly, vibrate through his chest, and tumble past his lips.

She increased her cadence, sensing he was quickly getting close, which he was, and he peeled opened his eyes to gaze upon her. A breath hitched in his throat as he watched her, her mouth draped around him, the delicate chestnut curls of her hair softly tickling his abdomen and hips, enhancing the erotic sensations he was already experiencing. She had one hand curled around him, cupping him, the other was palm-down against the floor to brace herself.

He thought he might die. Right then and there, with a smile on his face. Never, not even in his wildest fantasies had he ever thought he'd see Kate Beckett like _this_, _feel_ Kate Beckett like this, so open, so willing and vulnerable_._

He'd wanted it, wanted _her,_ but had begun to feel like the issues between them were insurmountable.

But then, suddenly, inexplicably, on one turbulent night, she came to him, her heart cracked-open and willing to let go of whatever it was that she'd been holding onto that had been, for four years, keeping them apart.

And, since that night it had been nothing but a wild, wonderful, heart-arresting roller-coaster ride. There were days when they were with each other, just sitting in the break room at the twelfth, or at the Java Hut ordering coffee, or while making love, that he was struck silent by the overwhelming realization that they were _together._ Finally, fully, in-it-for-the-long-haul, _together._

Times like right now.

She moved her hand from its place on the floor and inched it towards the curly trail of hair just below his belly button, her fingers kneading the soft pouch of flesh there. He flinched, her gilded touch sending shockwaves throughout his body. "Kate!" he pleaded, not entirely sure himself for what. Perhaps he needed her reassurance, her permission, before letting go.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her tongue circling around his sensitive tip, her hand still firmly coiled around him, stroking him, the metronomic cadence she'd established never ceasing, even as she held his gaze with fiery brilliant eyes, not the least bit ashamed or embarrassed.

He was close, very close, and she must have sensed his hesitancy because she offered him a coy smile, a gentle nod, silently giving him the permission he'd been seeking before returning her mouth to surround him, urging him forward.

The gentle intermittent moans coming from her throat sent a spark of excitement that spiraled throughout him. He was soaring, higher and higher, the orgasm growing painfully close.

And then, closer.

And, closer.

Until he could contain it not even _one_ _millisecond_ longer, and in a flourish of unbound ecstasy, unbridled passion, he gave in, renting his throat with her name, rolling it over and over on his tongue, his booming voice echoing from the high ceiling and long windows of the darkened soundless loft.

It rushed over him like a tsunami, his hips arcing towards her, needing her, pleading for her, aching for her.

She took him, all of him, slowly, deliberately using her lips and tongue and throat to guide him through the vestiges of his orgasm. And when he was spent, empty, completely and utterly satisfied, without a care or need or desire in the world, except for her, always her, she let go of him and crawled back up his body, kissing her way along his warm permeated skin.

And, when her lips reached his throat, savoring the mixture of salty and sweet that had coasted onto her tongue, she teased her way up his neck and whispered into his ear, her teeth skimming its shell, a chorus of her most well-hidden secrets, and promises, and prayers. She entrusted him with them, offering them to him like a pledge or promise, a down-payment on the future, to be exchanged or bartered or used like a talisman against their darker selves.

And he took them in, sipped them, savored them, grateful and ecstatic and afraid all at the same time. Because having them now was a heavy responsibility, a job all its own, and, he didn't want to fail her. Couldn't fail her. Couldn't fail himself.

She burrowed against him, nestling beside his half naked body, her lips ghosting his, their eyes meeting.

"Whoa. Kate."

She grinned coyly, scraping one fingernail over the thick stubble of his chin, her eyebrow lifting just so, and asked, "So, you liked it?"

* * *

**A/N: Im sorry. I know some of you are really tired of the "she tasted like/smelled like cherries" thing, but, I had to do it. It's canon. Kate Beckett tastes like cherries...or, so I've heard! :-)**

**If you would like to see this position (The Catherine Wheel, not the other *cough* position that I'm pretty sure you've already pictured) do a google search for "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra", or follow me on Twitter (krdaniels) and I'd be happy to send you the link. **

**Also, if you are a writer who would like to contribute to this project, please let me know! Not all of the chapters are rated M (the first three chapters notwithstanding), and writers of all genres are welcome! Finally, a great big mushy thank you to all of you who have so kindly received this, um, story. I've had a lot of fun with it! I hope you have too! **


	4. The Glowing Triangle

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

** Chapter Four: The Glowing Triangle**

He set the book down in front of her, holding it open to page four, _The Glowing Triangle_. She looked up at him, her face a mask of anger.

"You're kidding, right?" She accused, her arms folded tightly in front of her as she leaned against the free-standing porcelain sink in her loft kitchen. She crossed one blue-jean-clad leg over the other at the ankle, shooting darts at him with turbulent eyes. She was surprised he was even _here_ given the argument they'd just had at the precinct.

"No. I'm not kidding. Look, Kate, I don't see any reason why we can't still do this," he pointed at the picture of the naked couple exhibiting position four of the Kama Sutra.

"You don't see any reason? Castle? Really?"

"Do you?"

"Ah, _yeah_! How about the fact that not even two hours ago you accused me of being a whore and a cheater?! How about _that_ reason?" She asked, incredulous, pushing herself off of the sink and spinning around to reach for the bottle of Pinot Noir on the counter. She tamped down the impulse to throw it at him, unscrewed the cap and poured a glass.

_One_ glass. Not _two_.

He wasn't staying.

"You know, corked wine is really..."

She slammed the bottle down and glared at him. "You do know that I'm still wearing my gun, don't you?" She stepped around him and swiftly crossed into the living room where she pivoted in front of the sofa and plopped unceremoniously onto the firm cushions, propping her feet against the coffee table. She glared at him angrily over the rim of her glass, taking her time to sip the crimson liquid, savoring the burn as it trickled down her throat.

He took a steadying breath and followed her, the book still in his hand, his finger pressed between the pages, keeping his place. "I didn't call you a whore, Kate." He corrected.

"But you admit to calling me a cheater?"

"Well, I, ah, no, yes, but not really. What..." He stopped talking, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He took another deep breath. "What did you expect? How would you feel if you caught me having lunch with Gina? Or.."

Her eyes shot up and she interrupted him, _loudly_. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to, Castle? You have lunch with Gina _all the time_. And, it wasn't that long ago that you let _Meredith_ stay with you! And, I think I was pretty damn decent about it!"

"Okay, fine, you're right. But that's different!"

"How is it different?"

"Gina is my publisher, and Meredith is the mother of my child!"

"And Tom is a coworker!"

"Demming works in _robbery_, Kate. Not homicide."

She rolled her eyes. "So?"

"So you couldn't find some other robbery detective to assist with the case? It had to be Demming? And, you had to work over lunch together? In a café?" He glared at her from the corner of his eye, his forehead a mass of crisscrossing lines, his head tilting to the left as though he suddenly couldn't face her dead on.

"Castle, he was _assigned_ the case! How many times do I have to tell you that?" She sighed audibly, setting her glass down on the coffee table with an audible _clank _before raking both hands through her long hair, the soft loose curls bouncing against her shoulders. She slapped her hands against her thighs. "I don't get to _not_ work with him just because I've slept with him!"

He closed his eyes, the image of Kate and Demming _together_ entirely too much for his green-eyed brain to wrap around. He took two short steps and sat heavily in the chair opposite, holding one palm out, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Please? Could we? I don't. I don't need to know that you two..."

She snorted, "Really? You thought we were just holding hands that whole time?"

He looked up at her, his eyes ablaze, flecks of green and gold glistening angrily beneath the blue, "No, I know there was at least _kissing_ involved," he hissed.

She stared back at him with narrowed eyes, darting from one eye to the other, trying to figure out what was there, she could tell _something_ was there, some glimmer of ancient hurt bubbling beneath the surface. "What are you _talking_ about?"

He _did _look hurt, he suddenly looked _very hurt_, like some dusty memory had just stepped forward from the dark corners of his mind and flagged him down, taunting him, reminding him.

"Nothing."

She could see he was shutting down, protecting whatever piece of his heart that had been wounded by her relationship with Demming. But, why was she just seeing this _now_?

She recalled a distant memory of Esposito standing with her by the murder board, suggesting, no _telling_ her, that Castle wasn't going to stick around and watch her be with another guy.

That was the summer Castle had taken off for the Hamptons, the summer he'd reunited with his ex. She shuddered, not wanting to remember the pain of watching him walk down the precinct hallway arm-in-arm with Gina_,_ how he'd so casually thrown a "see you in the fall," over his shoulder, leaving her standing there with a beer in her hand and egg on her face. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she remembered it, the hurt, the disappointment, mostly in herself, the sense of betrayal for which she had no one but herself to blame. How many times, and in how many countless ways, had he shown her he wanted her? And, how many times had she rebuked or ignored him?

Although, in hindsight, the same could be said for _him_.

She watched him as he studied his hands, his face a mask of pain and embarrassment, perhaps a small amount of _shame_ mixed in for good measure.

"Castle! What?"

He sat for a log time, chewing on his bottom lip, staring at his hands before opening them, palms up. "I saw you two together," he confessed, and then slowly looked up at her, "...kissing."

She looked confused, her stomach flip-flopping as she traveled back through her day, he was crazy. "What? When?"

He shook his head, "Doesn't matter, Kate. It was a long time ago. It's stupid."

"Castle. Don't you think we've spent more than enough time _not_ telling each other things?"

He groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands, knowing she was right. "After we solved that robbery/homicide case with him?" He paused, giving her time to remember, which she did, indicating so with a nod of her head. "I saw the two of you, in the hallway, you were kissing, and I..." He made a face, "It bothered me."

Kate softened, though just. "Castle, I..."

"I know. I had no right at the time to even _let_ it bother me. But it did." He stared at her with misty eyes, a lump in his throat. "And, so, when I saw you with him today, it just, I felt, It was like _that_ time all over again."

She was still mad, still furious, really. But, she also knew what he meant. Knew how he felt. "Castle," she took a deep breath, arranging her fingers into a steeple against her lips. "When you left with Gina to go to the Hamptons? When you two got back together?" She waited for him to respond, which he did with troubled eyes, a slight tilt of his head. "Right before she showed up at the precinct I was going to tell you I wanted us to start seeing each other. To, um, I was going to accept your invitation to spend the weekend with you." She stopped, considering her words, noticing the small gasp that passed his lips. "And, then you took off for the summer with Gina, and," she paused, gesturing into the air, "...and it. I was. It hurt."

He looked at her with knowing eyes, regretful eyes, and she offered him the faintest smile. They sat that way for a while, just gazing at each other, remembering, grateful they weren't still _back there_.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Castle blinked.

"I'm sorry I called you a cheater," he blurted. "Even though I didn't actually _call_ you a cheater," he amended. "But, I'm sorry I implied it."

"And a whore," she corrected.

He bowed his head. "I was jealous."

She nodded. "I know you were."

"So, are we...?"

"Okay?" She asked,

"Yes,"

"We're okay," she confirmed.

He set the book down on the floor beside him, his finger slipping out of the page he'd been saving, and then groaned out of his chair, stepping over to join her on the couch. "I really am sorry, Kate." He said, settling beside her. He reached for her hand, which she offered willingly, their fingers entwining, his thumb caressing her forefinger. "Can you forgive me for being a jealous ass?"

All he had to do was look at her to know the answer.

Yes, she could.

**A/N: So, I know some of you may be disappointed that our favorite couple didn't engage in the Glowing Triangle. But, let's face it, even the most loving couples have fights. While this project will always reference the book, it doesn't mean every chapter will be M-rated. That's an impossible thing to write, plus, it makes it less exciting when I ****_do_**** write it. But, rest assured, ****_most_**** of the chapters will depict our favorite couple doing their best to practice the Kama Sutra! **

**I had two people Beta this chapter, and they had two very different opinions. One really liked it, one did not! I am okay with knowing that I cannot please all of the people all of the time. Even if this chapter isn't for you, I hope you'll stick with the story; you never know what's around the corner! :-)**

**If you would like to see what this position looks like, you can do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or follow me on Twitter (krdaniels) and I will be happy to send you the link to the webpage. **


	5. The X Rated

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Five: The X-Rated**

**H**e was so ready for her that the slightest brush of her lips against his jaw sent shockwaves rippling throughout his body. He grabbed her with eager, desperate hands, smashing his body against hers, trapping her between himself and the door.

He'd been on a book tour, one hastily arranged at the last minute by Gina, and so they'd been apart for one long, tortuous, _agonizing_ week. When he'd arrived back in New York, he'd ordered the car service to take him directly to her apartment from the airport. He was barely in the door before she was in his arms, expertly divesting him of his clothing, guiding his hands to her softest parts, plunging her tongue seductively into his mouth, her fingers scraping his scalp, teasing his neck, mapping his chest.

They'd stumbled backwards into her bedroom, half-naked, possessed, every cell and fiber oriented to the other, desperately climbing all over each other, that by the time they'd flopped onto the bed, not a stitch of synthetic blends came between them, their bodies a tangled mass of sweaty naked limbs and roaming tongues.

And then her lips traveled his jaw, his cheek, coveting his mouth, while she draped her body over his, her fists grabbing tufts of his tousled hair, her elbows mending into the mattress as she ground against him, artfully, slowly, deliberately in foolish circles.

He grew hard against her, and when she felt him rise and swell against her thigh, she moaned with approval, tucking her arms beneath his shoulders, trapping his mouth with hers, their tongues engaged in a curious spontaneous ballet, his tongue skimming the dangerous ridge of her teeth, sucking her lip into his mouth, biting it, then releasing and gently laving it, soothing the pinched, swollen flesh.

Feeling dizzy and disoriented, she carefully, slowly, skated the full length of her sweat-kissed body slowly up, and then back down, his; her breasts smashing against the sinewy muscles of his chest, flesh on flesh, warm and humming, vibrating with need, with _want,_ with unbridled longing.

She moved slowly up, teasing his lips with her teeth, her toes digging urgently into his shins, hunting for purchase.

And down, her tongue darting out to skim the pulse point in his neck, her feet covering his, pressing against his instep.

And up.

And down.

The gentle friction of her skin against his, urging him, coaxing him, _teasing_ him until Castle finally cried out, her name a litany renting from his throat.

"Kate," he breathed, "Kate," he begged. "Kate," he wept.

As she slid up, and down. And up. And down.

A kittenish grin took possession of her lips and she wiggled against him, his erection full, ready, eager, against her abdomen.

"You want me to stop?" She stilled her body, rigid, unyielding, and he throbbed in agony beneath her.

And then, in one fluid twisting motion that caught her completely unprepared, Castle wrapped his leg behind hers and flipped them, she landed with an _oomph _on her back, the breath that had been lingering in her lungs forced out in a rush that whooshed past her lips, coasting hot against his neck.

His voice a course whisper, "You think you're so clever, don't you, Kate?" He straddled her legs, forcing them together, and then licked her bottom lip, sanctioning it with a gentle press of his lips. "...two can play at that game, Beckett."

He was panting. So was she. Squirming, writhing, her hips playing from side to side, feeling his thick arousal in her softest, wettest, part.

She clawed at his back, her fingernails scraping his lenient flesh, marking him, branding him as _hers_, and when she drew blood, and he cried out, twisting his body away from her, she had just the opening she needed to get her leg from under his and coiled around his back.

But, he was on to her and before she could get proper leverage, he shifted his weight, trapping her long muscular leg with his own, and she moaned, struggling beneath him. He grabbed both of her hands and pinned them above her head against the mattress. "That's not going to work, Kate." He panted against her ear, his forehead a sheen of sweat, "...you might have combat training, but I'm stronger than you."

She bucked against him wildly, a devilish grin on her face, but he used his full body weight to trap her, and she screamed at him, "Rick! God!"

His lips curved up in a boyish grin, knowing her screams were ecstasy not agony, or maybe they were a bit of both, but in a _delicious_ way. His lips against her ear, he whispered, "What do you want, Kate? Tell me what you _want_."

She wiggled her hips, trying to rub against him, the throbbing between her legs almost unbearable. "Fuck!" She hissed.

"Yes, yes. There will be that," Castle teased, whispering, "...there will be plenty of _fucking_." He brushed his erection against her belly. "But, before then, what do you want? Tell me what you want me to _do_ to you, Kate." He plunged his tongue in her ear. She instinctively turned her head to the side, giving him access, and he felt her body ripple beneath him. He sucked her earlobe, trapping it between his teeth, before tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue.

She shuddered.

Her hands still pinned in his vice-like grip, he again captured her mouth and groaned with surprise as she rose up to meet him, her tongue darting past his lips in a furious exploration. They kissed, his mouth hard against hers, but his lips so soft, their tongues weaving, their breath quick and panting, and she wanted to part her legs, he could feel it as she strained against him, but he wouldn't let her, enjoying her torment, wanting her to _tell him_ what she wanted.

She sighed, then whispered, "_Use your mouth, Castle." _

He stilled, then looked at her, his eyes swimming with need, a grin sliding across the corners of his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "I want you to make me _come_ using just your mouth."

He half-chuckled, half-moaned, grinding himself against her, then whispered, his voice gravely and low, "I love it when you tell me what to do, Kate. I love it when you talk dirty to me."

She smiled, raising an eyebrow, arching her back, "And then I want you to _fuck_ me, Castle. I want you to fuck me _hard._" She rose up, her mouth desperate and greedy against his as they kissed, and licked, sucked and bit, then came up for air, as though they'd forgotten it was a requirement for life.

"Wow," He panted, catching his breath, "...if I'd have known how dirty you get when we're apart for a _week_, I'd have gone on a lot more book tours."

She exhaled, squirming beneath him, "Shut up and _touch_ me, Castle."

He let go of her hands and, now freed, they immediately wrapped around his neck, as though bidden there by some unseen custody. They kissed. Long, slow, like it was their first time. And, when he slid his lips down her neck, past the harsh lines of her collarbone, stopping at her teardrop shaped breasts, she curled her fingers into his hair, arching her back to thrust herself against him.

He molded one perfectly curved breast in his hand, the other he took into his mouth, delighting in how his ministrations were rewarded by the feel of it tightening, rising, begging for more. He grazed his teeth against it, twisting and pinching the other one between his thumb and forefinger, then dangerously collected it between his teeth before flattening his tongue around her areola, smoothing it, calming it. He blew on it, smiling as her skin puckered in automatic response.

He brought one hand to her lips, slipping two fingers into her mouth for her to suck and lick. After a slow deliberate extraction, they glistened deliciously in the low light; he lowered them to between her thighs, and watched her face, her lips curling into the shape of an O as he slipped his fingers inside of her. He pumped in and out, once, twice, three times, before pulling them out, then walking them around her clit.

She brought both hands to her head, grabbing her own hair and pulling, arching her back, her body wanting, charged, ready, ready, so ready. She swung her hips up and down, back and forth, her breath coming out in quick, short bursts.

He slid two fingers back in, curling them so the pads pressed against the little patch of ridged flesh high up inside of her, the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger pressing against her clit.

A raw, guttural cry ascended her throat and rushed past her open lips. Surprising her.

Surprising _him._

He'd touched her G-spot.

"God," she panted. "God, Castle!"

There were no more words, she could make no more words, so she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, barely noticing the shifting patterns and colors the dim bedside lamp was casting over it like a psychedelic slide show, and rode his fingers.

But then he slid them out again, and quickly replaced his hand with his mouth, kneeling on the bed between her legs, one hand pressing on the mound of soft hair at her pelvis, the other spreading her wet folds apart so his tongue could coast along the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing, cajoling, liberating her.

And, then Kate felt it; the crest of the wave, the tip of the mountain, and the sensation throbbed from between her legs to her throat and back down again, landing low in her belly. Buzzing, humming, building there.

The orgasm exploded, sending shards of pleasure radiating out, creating collateral damage from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and her hips bucked wildly against him. But, he held on, pressing his hand against her pubic bone to tamp her down, control the spasms, ride them out as wave after wave crashed against her belly, between her legs, over her swollen, rigid clit. His fingers surged into her flesh, massaging her sinewy muscles, gripping her hips as she slowed, the rolling of her pelvis calming, receding, keeping gentle rhythm with the soft moans and breaths rising from her chest.

And then she was still, only the rapid rise and fall of her chest betraying the carnal exercise he'd just put her through.

She kept her eyes closed for several seconds, tiny spasms of pleasure still flowing from between her legs. He crawled back up her body, kissing his way along her soft curves, pressing his lips against the ripple of muscles at her abdomen, the dip between her breasts, the pulsing malleable vee at the base of her throat, her honeyed swollen lips.

She draped both arms around his neck as he settled on top of her, "Mmmmm, Castle!"

He smiled against her mouth, dipping his tongue into the warm sweet cavern, tempting her, seducing her, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth, daring her, before letting go.

She coiled one leg behind his back, her voice ghosting against his ear as his lips stumbled down the column of her neck. "I want you _inside_ of me, Castle. Now."

She reached between them, curling her fingers around his erection.

He put his hand over hers; stopping her, "Wait!"

She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, "What?"

"Where's the book?"

"The book?"

"Kate! The book."

"Oh, _that _book. It's um." She twisted away from him, reaching under the bedside table, and pulled it out from the shelf. "Here."

He settled onto his knees and thumbed his way past the first few pages of _100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra_. When he landed on page five, he peeked at her over the top of the large volume and waggled his eyebrows. "It's called the X-Rated."

She sat up, "Let me see."

He showed her, and she mewled like a kitten. "Hmmm, I think I like that one, Castle."

She took the book out of his hands, examined the picture more closely then tossed it onto the floor beside the bed. With a lilt of her eyebrow, a soft curve of her lips, she slid her hands on either side of his waist, her fingers strumming the ladder of his ribcage, tracing each rise of muscle over bone, before roaming through the patches of curly hair that sprinkled the broad span of his chest.

She kissed him, softly, just a slight press of her lips against his.

And, before he could slip his wandering hands around her waist, she shoved him roughly backwards, his head landing on the mattress at the foot of the bed, his legs straight in front of him, his feet sliding beneath the pillows piled at the other end of the bed.

She picked up one of the pillows and tossed it to him, he caught it deftly with one hand and tucked it behind his head, his eyes never leaving her lithe body as she climbed on top of him, her body wandering with catlike precision, swaying back and forth above him, her breasts bouncing and swaying, taunting him. He reached up and took one nipple into his mouth, nipping at it before she pushed him away, breaking the seal of his lips around her breast with an audible _pop_.

"It looks like I'm going to be the one fucking _you, _Castle."

"God," he begged.

She turned around, straddling his lap with her back exposed to him.

He gasped.

Why did her back come as such a shock, when her lips and her breasts, her _front_ seemed so familiar? Had he never seen it before? Had she never rolled over naked in his bed? Or, hers?

Of course she _had_.

Of course this wasn't his first time seeing the lines and curves and soft hollows that made her seem like a divine piece of artwork.

But it sure _seemed _like it.

He felt like a stupefied adolescent, viewing with wide-eyes and panting breath the naked female form for the very first time. He skimmed her body with enthusiastic eyes, the forgiving curls of chestnut hair that cascaded down the ridges of her spine, obstructing his view of it as it traveled the length of her back, curving inward at the spot where her skin rearranged itself into two small dimples. He relished her body, the glorious shape of it, the gentle upswing of muscle and bone, blue veins carrying her life's blood crisscrossing just beneath her tepid skin. She was breathtaking, and he stopped, for just a second, to take it all in, to truly appreciate it.

And as he reveled in the brilliance of her virtually perfect form, she took his erection firmly into her agile hands, her thumb wiping the glistened tip, spreading his nectar, and then slowly, so slowly, she lowered herself around him.

He filled her completely, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as she gripped him with elastic muscles.

A ghostly moan tumbling past his lips, he grasped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, kneading the muscle.

She established a measured rhythm up and down. Up. And down. Then she leaned forward, coiling her arms around his calves and extended her legs back towards his shoulders.

They were in the perfect X.

Castle molded his palms around the curve of her ass, caressing her, guiding her. Her goose-bumped flesh sweaty and humming, Kate slid up and down the full length of his body, just as she had before, but this time with him inside of her, filling her, thrusting his pelvis with each slide of her hips against him.

She needed more of him inside of her and increased her pace, back and forth, pounding against him like she was furious at the universe for having kept them apart for so long and she wanted to make up for all of those lost days and nights of passion and sweat, evenings filled with food and wine, conversation, recreation, _each other;_ lost mornings of breakfast in bed.

And, _other_ stuff.

He grasped blindly at her thighs, her calves, her feet, trying to grab hold of _something_ as he felt the orgasm building. He thrust more deeply inside of her, his pelvis rocking against her, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the spaces around them.

Because of her angle, she was getting more stimulation than the customary missionary position could provide, although she couldn't even remember the last time they'd made love that way, and she could feel herself building again. She was close, so close, just one more stroke, one more slide of him against her and she would…her eyes fluttered open.

They cried out simultaneously, each reaching climax at exactly the same time, stunned because they'd never achieved this before. She could see vague shapes; his foot beside a pillow, his toes curled and straining, pressing the headboard for balance, the arc of the painted wrought iron and the shadows cast behind it by the low light of her bedside lamp, rendering ominous figures in glowing, elongated portraits against the beige coated wall.

He sing-songed her name with each thrust into her, their voices merged in a rising chorus of ecstasy that spiraled and echoed between them. His eyes, glassy and swimming, shifted to the place where they were joined. Even as he was softening inside of her, the ripples of his climax fewer, slighter, she still gripped him, coaxing him, the contractions of her own orgasm extending the vestiges of his.

And, then they were done. Complete. Satiated. Kate was so fatigued that after she gently eased off of him, she could only roll onto her back, her head laying half-on, half-off the pillow, her arms and legs splayed out haphazardly, her breathing heavy and labored. She raised one exhausted arm and dropped it onto his shin, her fingertips tracing lazy circle-eight's through the course hair that covered his leg.

She heard him take a deep breath, his voice a hoarse whisper when he said, "I missed you, Kate."

She smiled, her eyes already closing as sleep seemed determined to carry her off. "I missed you, too." She patted his leg, "I missed you _a_ _lot_, Castle."

**A/N: So, yep, this one was pure, unadulterated smut. No plot at all. I'd apologize for it, but, c'mon, sometimes it's ****_fun_**** to just read smut. If it isn't, and you need more substance, then please hang in there and wait for upcoming chapters. My goal is to provide as much variety as I can. **

**I am also seeking other authors who wish to contribute to this project. Please see Ch. 1 for parameters. I've got a few of you roped in, but would love to add more! I am more than happy to Beta. Please remember, all ratings (K-M) are welcome! **

**If you would like to see this position, you can do a Google search for "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or follow me on Twitter (krdaniels) and I would be happy to send you the link to the webpage.**

**Finally, thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following. It has been such a pleasure to write this, and that some of you are enjoying it as much as I am, is truly a blessing to know. :-) Thank you! **


	6. The Nirvana

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Six: The Nirvana**

The early morning sun streamed in through the wide window of Kate's loft, casting shadows across the bed. Kate's eyes blinked open and it took her a minute to get her bearings. On the pillow beside her were a pair of feet. Castle's feet, and she smiled, remembering their furious, and naked, exploits from the previous night.

He was still asleep, his gentle, rhythmic snores both annoying and comforting. She rolled onto her side, pulling the soft hand-sewn quilt around her cool naked flesh.

She must have covered them with the quilt at some point during the night, but she couldn't remember doing it. She only remembered being carried off to sleep by the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Castle had been away for the last week on a book tour that his publisher, and ex-wife, had arranged at the last minute.

Kate had missed him.

She'd missed him a lot.

In fact, she'd missed him much more than she actually cared to admit…to herself _or_ him.

She'd never depended on anyone like this before. Never opened herself in this _all-in_ way to anyone, and, in spite of how much she loved Castle, how much fun they were having, she'd often worried if it would last.

_Borrowing_ _trouble_, _Katie_. She could hear her dad say, his paternal advice on a constant loop in her head. _Just be in the now, and worry about the yet-to-come when it actually, well, comes. _

She rubbed the gravel from her eyes with both fists and then sat up, yawning. He was still sound asleep and seemed content to stay that way. She peeled the quilt back and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor.

After using the bathroom, she slipped into a silky mid-length bathrobe and then tiptoed back through the bedroom, glancing at Castle to see if he was still sleeping, which he was, before padding into the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee.

She rummaged through her cupboard to find the pre-ground French Roast she'd picked up at the Java Hut last week, and busied herself with making the fresh pot of aromatic coffee, her lips occasionally curving as her mind naturally wandered to their carnal gymnastics from last night.

She'd always imagined Castle would be a good lover, but had no idea just _how _good until that stormy night last spring when they'd finally made love for the first time.

Well, actually, the first _three_ times.

He'd far exceeded any pre-conceived expectation she'd had, surprising her with how incredibly attentive he was, always making sure that _her _needs were being met, and most of the time, before his _own_.

With the coffee streaming through the filter into the large glass pot, she crossed to the front door and opened it, gathering the newspaper that had been unceremoniously dumped there by the paperboy.

Or girl, she wasn't sure which.

She snapped the paper open and stared down at the headlines. Unrest in Egypt, famine in the Sudan, a mass shooting in Wyoming.

Kate tossed it aside.

Too impatient to wait for the pot to fill, she switched it with her mug, holding the cerulean blue cup beneath the flowing stream until it was full, and then replacing it with the stained pot. She wrapped her hands around it and blew along the surface of the black liquid, the steam floating sideways. She closed her eyes, bringing the mug to her nose, inhaling deeply, the familiar comforting scent permeating her nostrils. She took a tentative sip; the scalding liquid warming her throat as it went down, spreading throughout her like a warm duvet, soothing and comfortable, easy.

She nestled in on the couch, burrowing against the pillows and threw a blanket over her bare legs. She brought the mug to her lips again, taking a more generous sip, and closed her eyes, tipping her face towards the sunbeam that flooded in through the windows behind her couch.

When she opened them, Castle was padding into the room, wearing only a smile, as casually as if he were fully dressed. He spotted Kate on the couch and pivoted in her direction, stopping when he noticed the mug of coffee. He pointed at it. "Did you make a whole pot?"

She nodded, tilting her head and smiling at him.

"Good," he blurted, pivoting on his heel and walking away from her towards the kitchen. She watched him saunter away, his ample and fabulously _delicious_ ass directly in her line of sight. She cocked her head to one side, licking her lips and sighing.

"I know you're checking me out, Beckett," he joked, twisting at the waist to look back at her. He pointed in her direction. "I'm not just a piece of meat, you know."

"Mmmm, I know," she replied, hiding her smirk behind the rim of her mug. "You are _much more_ than a piece of meat."

A steaming mug in his hand, he stopped at the kitchen counter to glance at the paper. He took a sip of his coffee, squinting at the scalding liquid as it burned his tongue. "So, what's on the agenda for today? Are you working?"

He dropped the paper and glanced at her, waiting for her answer. "Kate?"

She jumped, "Hmmm?"

He waved a hand at her, "Did you hear me?"

She grinned, sipping her coffee before answering. "Castle. How do you expect me to have a coherent conversation with you when you're standing there naked?"

"Well, maybe it'll help if you come over here and stand naked, with me." He raised the corner of his mouth, giving her a come-hither gesture with his hand.

She chuckled. "I doubt that will help with our _conversation_," she offered, already getting up from her spot on the couch to saunter over to him, her hand on the knot of her bathrobe sash.

His eyes dropped to watch her hands as they undid the sash, her robe falling open, revealing her naked body beneath. He slipped one hand around her waist, pulling her close, his lips pressed against hers in a firm, open kiss. And when they parted, she glanced up at him, one eye squinting. "Now, what did you ask me?"

"Are you working today?"

"On call, but I don't have to go in unless a body drops."

"Mmmm, so, we might have the whole day?"

"Mmm hmmm,"

He nodded, thinking. "Any thoughts as to what we should do?"

She tapped her forefinger against her lips as though in deep thought, and then reaching out to take his hand from where it had settled around her waist, guided it to her left breast where he instinctively molded it against his palm. "I have a couple of good ideas," she dropped her gaze to between his legs, noting that he was already growing aroused. "One of them involves page six of that book you got me."

"Mmmm," he replied, his lips skimming the shell of her ear. "Page six."

"The Nirvana," she explained as his fingers traced the curve of her breast, causing her skin to pucker into a sea of tiny goose-bumps.

"The Nirvaaaanahhh," he repeated, shuffling her backwards towards the bedroom door.

"Mmm hmm, I think it's…" but before she could continue, she was interrupted by the familiar and horribly-timed chiming of her cell phone. She exhaled, briefly resting her forehead against his chest, willing her phone to stop, willing it to be a wrong number, before finally crossing to the kitchen counter and picking up the iPhone.

It was the Twelfth.

_Fuck._

"Beckett," she barked into the phone, tapping her fingernails impatiently against the countertop

She spun around and looked at Castle, offering an apologetic grimace. "I'll be right there."

"Let me guess," he piped up, following her to the bedroom. "Nirvana will have to wait for later."

"Probably _much_ later," she sighed. "We have a multiple homicide on our hands."

"Well, you still have to shower, right?" He raised an eyebrow, peeling her robe from her shoulders.

She smiled knowingly, glancing at the bedside clock, biting her bottom lip. "We have to hurry," she ordered, grabbing his hand and towing him to the bathroom. "No time for foreplay, Castle," she glanced back at his almost full erection, "but that doesn't look like it will be a problem."

* * *

**W**hen they arrived at the crime scene an hour later, each of them holding a cup of coffee from the Java Hut, they quickly forgot all about the Nirvana position as the horror of what had transpired here unfolded before them.

"Jesus," Castle exclaimed. "What the hell happened?"

Lanie looked up from her crouched position over one of the three bodies that had been dumped in the alley. "Something dark, Castle. Something evil, and sinister, and very," she paused, taking a deep breath. "…_dark._"

**A/N: Well, it ****_is_**** Castle, and she ****_is_**** a cop, and he ****_is_**** a mystery writer, so I thought we needed at least ****_some_**** elements of criminal drama in this story. Right? **

**If you would like to know what the Nirvana position is, even though our favorite crime solvers had to skip it, just Google "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or follow me on Twitter (krdaniels) and I'd be happy to send you the link. **


	7. The Padlock

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits**  
**

**Chapter Seven: The Padlock**

She was hunched over the desk in her tiny home office, the muscles and tendons in her neck giving birth to a painful knot that was _now_ giving birth to a headache. She'd come home from work, still unsatisfied with the progress they'd been making on the case, and decided to take another stab at it after a couple of hours rest.

Except, she couldn't rest. Which was why she was now sitting at her desk, wearing her favorite blue nightshirt and slippers, staring at the digital crime scene photos that were flickering against her computer screen, taunting her.

The murders of the three women were proving to be particularly difficult to solve, with no I.D. on any of the victims, and no discernable motive for their killing, other than the apparent sickening motive that whoever had done this, _liked_ it.

Her phone chimed and she picked it up to look at the incoming text.

It was Castle. He was on his way with take out.

She texted him back, _don't forget the duck sauce. _And then she carelessly dropped the phone on the desk, an unceremonious _clunk _filling the silence around her_._

He would probably stroll past her threshold with a bottle of expensive red wine, too, she supposed. Which, right about now sounded like exactly what she needed.

She folded her hands in front of her and then stretched them straight above her head, arching her back against the chair in a futile attempt to weave out the knots that were peppering her shoulders. She cocked her head to one side, heard an audible _crack_, and then did the same with the other, achieving similar results. She turned in her chair, grabbing the back of it to force her torso into a twist that would make a pretzel stand and applaud, and several more _cracks_ traveled up the column of her spine. She turned and did the same on the other side. More _cracks. _Then she spent a few minutes gazing out of the window, affording her eyes some much needed rest.

Reasonably refreshed, she returned to the crime scene photographs. She was missing something, she knew it, she just couldn't place her finger on it.

_"What is it, what is it, what is it?"_ she mumbled to herself, tapping one long finger against her pursed lips. "_What is it that I'm missing?"_

"Could it be me?"

She jumped. Some part of her brain had heard him come in, but she was so focused on the photographs that she'd ignored it, her cop's instincts knowing it was Castle and seeing no need to force her to stop doing what she was doing.

She swiveled in her chair to face him as he leaned casually against the doorframe between her office and living room. He was wearing the same black jeans he'd had on this morning, paired with the bright blue shirt that brought out the spectacular blue of his eyes.

She smiled, "Hi."

"Hi." He pushed off the doorframe and ambled towards her, a boyish grin playing his lips. "How's it going? You've got that whole Beckett-scrunchy-faced thing going on here," he motioned around her face with one hand, and then leaned down and kissed her quickly on the lips.

"Ugh. I know I'm missing something, Castle. I just don't know what it is!"

"Then maybe you need a break," he suggested, inching closer to her. He held out his hand, and she rolled her eyes at him. "C'mon Beckett, let me sweep you off your feet." He edged his hand closer.

She slapped her palm into his and stood up, falling into him.

He was like a soothing balm, an elixir, and the knots and pains that had been plaguing her all afternoon were suddenly loosening, unfolding themselves, smoothing muscle over bone, tranquil and posture.

Their kiss started off slowly, deliberately, the press of firm warm lips against soft and wet; tongues darting out to meet and dance, familiar and exciting, palliative, wanting. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled, flirting dangerously, daring him to move, which he did not, knowing better, before letting it go.

She pressed her forehead against his, "Mmmmm, this is nice."

He curled his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, her body pressed against his, and slid one leg between hers, rising up to meet her pelvis.

She gasped, her lips bowing against his.

"Yes, _nice_," he agreed.

One hand tripped down her spine, his palm gently cupping the delicious slope of her ass before fingering the hem of her nightshirt. He walked his fingers up her thigh, taking the nightshirt with him, his fingernails gently scratching her skin, leaving thin white marks in their wake, as though branding her.

She moaned into his mouth, her body pressing closer to him, humming and buzzing, open, wanting, _needing. _ How did he do that to her? How, so quickly, could she go from being a hunched-over bundle of knotted muscles, agitated and stressed out, to a quivering puddle of flesh and desire, throbbing ache, impassioned _need._

He did that.

Always did that.

He kicked the wheeled task chair away from the desk and backed her up against it, pressing her into the unyielding wood, sweeping aside the keyboard and piled paperwork that sat atop the large counter.

She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth. "You seem to have something very specific in mind here, Castle," she teased, her eyes rolling closed as his hand traveled up the inside of her thigh, his thumb pressing into sinewy muscle. Ripples of pleasure radiated from the spot where he'd just touched her to the wanting place between her legs.

He smiled, brushing his mouth over hers before tilting his head and traveling his lips along her jawline. "Mmm hmm," he replied, his tongue darting out from between his lips to lap at her neck, the salty-sweet of her tepid flesh tripping on his tongue, eliciting a mournful moan. The deep timbre of his voice vibrated against her throat, sending tiny little shivers in a footrace down her spine.

"Page seven, Kate."

Shallow lines traversed between her eyes and then smoothed out as realization dawned. "What's it called?" she asked, her lips bowing into a kittenish grin just as his hand inched higher on her thigh, his lips grazing lower on her neck.

"The Padlock."

"Hmmm," she purred, wiggling her hips against him, "sounds dangerous."

He peppered her neck with small kisses, gathering the hem of her nightshirt in his hands. "Mmmm, no, you'll be pleasantly surprised by how _easy_ this one is."

She leaned back, arching her eyebrow at him before he lifted her nightshirt up past her thighs, the slope of her hips, the inward curve of her waist, the delicious teardrops of her breasts. Up, and off, her hair falling softly around her shoulders as it passed over her head.

His hands mapped her upper body as they kissed, caressing her spine, her shoulders, cupping her breasts, his fingertips strumming the ladder of her ribcage, the gentle rise of muscle over bone, and then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her delicate underwear and pulled, sliding them slowly past her hips, down the long lines of her legs until they hit the floor and she stepped out of them, kicking them carelessly away from her.

"Sit on the edge of the desk," he whispered, his tongue tracing an uninterrupted path along the shell of her ear.

She did as she was told, placing the palms of her hands against the desk behind her to brace herself.

He gazed at her, the blue of his eyes swimming with flecks of green and gold, sparkling at her from beneath hooded eyelids. "You take my breath away," he croaked.

She smiled, not the least bit shy about being completely naked in front of him, not afraid to be open, vulnerable, safe and wanting, unguarded and willing, needing him, only him, not _merely_ him, but _only_ him, now and for whatever undefined future she could imagine beyond _this_ moment. "And you," she raised her eyebrows, "…are _way_ overdressed." She plucked at the top button of his oxford shirt. "Get naked, Castle. _Now."_

He wasted no time and was out of his pants and shirt in less than ten seconds. Her eyes dropped to the hem of his boxers and she slid one finger between her teeth, biting on it. Her eyes slowly rose, scanning the ripples of muscle at his abdomen, the wide span of his ribcage, the broad expanse of his chest, before meeting his eyes. She raised her eyebrows and then dropped her gaze to his boxers. _Take em off_, her body language told him.

And he did. Sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of the grey silk underwear and tugging them down, his penis springing free as the soft fabric passed below his hips.

He was ready.

He was _very_ ready.

He moved to where she was, sliding between her legs, his hands guiding them until her long gams were wrapped firmly around his waist. He traced the surf where her legs met her hips, smiling as she flinched, and then eased one finger inside of her.

"Mmmm, you're so _wet_ already," he observed, sliding his finger out of her to tease and coax her clit.

A long slow exhale teemed from her mouth and her eyelids fluttered shut.

He placed his hands on either side of her hips, scooting her forward so her bum was right on the edge of the table.

And then, with a determined, _carnal, _mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he thrust himself deeply into her.

Her eyes grew wide, her mouth dropping open as he filled her completely. She threw her head back and moaned, her long chestnut hair cascading down her spine, tickling her sensitive flesh, her soft curls bouncing with each thrust of him into her. She gripped his waist as tightly as she could, her muscular legs allowing only enough give to let him move out and then back in to her.

He grabbed her from behind, pushing her against him as he pounded into her, over and over, establishing a punishing rhythm. He watched as her deliciously shaped breasts bounced up and down with each thrust, and he briefly stopped so he could lean forward and wrap his lips around one nipple, immediately rewarded as it rose and puckered inside of his mouth. Kate lifted one hand to rake her fingers through his already tousled hair as he sucked and nipped at her breasts, first the left and then the right.

He growled as he finally let go of her enchanting nipples.

She mewled. Just like an indolent cat, her body chasing him, missing the feel of his lips on her charged, sensitive flesh.

Until he thrust himself inside of her again, re-establishing a deliberate cadence in and out.

And in.

And out.

Faster and faster, relentless, desperate, determined, savoring the moans and hums rising from her throat, the pinkness of her skin as they rocked together.

He circled his hips, thrusting them, feeling her inner muscles grip him, delighting in the strength and flexibility of her legs as she pulled him to her with each thrust, just barely letting him pull out before tightening around him again.

His hands roamed along her thighs, caressing her flesh, kneading her tense muscles. He loved her legs, loved their long lines and curves, loved their strength, too. They were powerful, able to chase down bad guys when needed, but feminine and comforting when tangled with his as they slept or made love, or simply lay together. He loved her legs. Loved the way they were wrapped around him now, teasing, urging, malleable, but only just, not allowing him to move more than a few inches away from her before forcing him back into her.

He was climbing, a familiar delight spreading low in his belly, rising, rising and he had to hold it back, waiting for her, knowing she was close. He could tell by the familiar sounds and rhythm of her body, the way the skin on her chest flushed bright crimson, the thin sheen of sweat that collected over her body, her mouth open and panting.

He moved one hand to the place where they were joined, pressing the pads of his fingers against her clit, immediately rewarded by the long slow moan that tumbled past her lips.

He watched as her breathing changed, becoming erratic and labored. She was close, so close, and he wanted to _see_ her come.

"Look at me, Kate," he whispered.

She rolled her head forward and opened her eyes. They were glassy and unfocused. Their color changing from green to brown to gold as her pupils constricted against the early evening light that poured in through the window behind him.

"I want to see you, I want to see you as you _come_," he begged.

His words were her undoing, tumbling her over the precipice and she convulsed around him, her eyes holding his steady gaze as she came. She tried to call his name, but could only manage a string of garbled words, incoherent, scattered, much as how she felt.

But her eyes spoke for her, and he saw it there, he saw her pleasure, her openness, her pain, her _love._ It was all there, swimming in those chameleon eyes as they held his baby-blue's and it stopped his life's breath. Right there, halted in mid-exhale.

He felt her internal muscles gripping him, and then relaxing, then gripping again, tightening around him before letting go. And, just when he thought she was done, satisfied, complete, she did it again. Her eyes never leaving him. It made him think that this was more than one orgasm. That she'd just come again.

And, again.

He circled his hips, coaxing each wave of her climax until she was still, quiet, her pupils dilating, the rise and fall of her chest slowing, and then he slowly thrust into her again, easing back with exquisite slowness before slamming back into her, then easing out again.

He kept this rhythm for what felt like a fine eternity, slamming in, pulling slowly out, slamming in, easing out. In. And out.

And in.

And out.

Until he knew he was on the edge, about to fall over, and he sped up, thrusting quickly in and out of her. His face a steely mask of concentration, but his eyes holding hers with an intensity that unnerved her, almost _frightened _her, yet she felt safe at the same time. Because there was _love_ there, deep and abiding. And she knew, she _knew_ it was for her, only her.

He cried out, exploding, emptying himself into her, feeling as though he'd just shattered into a million sharp pieces. She gripped him with elastic muscles, easing the rest of his orgasm from him, coaxing him, calling him, loving him with every fiber of her life.

His heart was thumping, his thoughts in riotous disarray. He was still inside of her, though he had gone soft, and his eyes had never left hers.

And, they were smiling.

Brightly, beautifully. Smiling.

Both of them, with their whole faces, their lips and eyes, smiling intentionally at each other, and they needed nothing more, not speech, not food, not air, not water, not any other person, place or thing. Just this. This moment.

He eased out of her and she sat up, framing his face with her hands. She kissed him, sweetly, slowly, with thought and intention, speaking her words with her lips and tongue, and teeth, but inaudibly.

She slipped off the desk, her toes finding purchase on the carpet below her and slid into his arms.

They laughed.

"Wow," he finally said.

"Wow," she agreed.

* * *

**T**heir meal finished, the wine consumed, Kate had returned to her computer to show Castle the crime scene photographs. They'd talked about the case over dinner, once they'd recovered from The Padlock (Kate now understanding why it was called that), and Castle wanted to see the pictures again. Kate was relieved for the fresh set of eyes.

She clicked through the crime scene and autopsy photographs again, one at a time, until Castle told her to stop. "Put all three of the autopsy photographs up side by side. Just their upper bodies."

She did.

"Look," he said pointing at the first victims shoulder. Kate peered more closely. "A scar."

"Right, in the shape of an L and now look here," he pointed at the next victim.

"Another scar,"

"In the same place, but in the shape of a backwards L."

Kate scanned the third photograph, "Oh, God. Castle. What is this?" The third victim had an upside down L.

"I don't know," he shook his head. "Think we can call Lanie at this hour?" He glanced at his wristwatch.

Kate picked up the phone, punched the autodial number and hit speakerphone.

"Hey, girl!" Lanie greeted. "Why are you calling me at this hour? Did Castle do something to piss you off again? I'll kick his ass, Kate. I already told you…"

"Lanie," Kate interrupted, glancing nervously at Castle as he mouthed _What did you tell her?_ She shrugged, returning her gaze to the phone. "I think we've caught a break, let me tell you what Castle found."

* * *

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or follow me on Twitter (krdaniels) and I would be happy to send you the link to the webpage. **

**And, thank you so much for reading, and for your lovely words of encouragement. I truly appreciate it. **

**And, ya gotta love Lanie, right? More of her to come. :-) No pun intended. ;-)**


	8. The Slide

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Eight: The Slide**

Lanie was hunched over the body of the first victim, a Caucasian woman in her mid-forties, inspecting for a third time the odd markings that Kate had described to her on the phone last night. It was rather obvious that the scars on all three women were related, and Lanie shook her head, kicking herself for not having caught the similarities herself.

She was about to slide the slab drawer closed, having already covered the victim with the stark white sheet, when Kate and Castle came bustling through the door. They looked fresh and bright, _to_-_go_ cups of coffee in each of their hands, and - Lanie blinked to be sure she was seeing it properly - they were wearing _matching_ _outfits_.

She made a point of scanning them from head to toe, her amused brown eyes traveling from their sky-blue shirts to their crisp black pants; noting that only their shoes were different.

She waved her hand up and down in front of the pair, a sassy smirk on her lips. "Well, aren't you two just so _cute_!" she teased.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Don't even get me started," she warned, shooting darts at Castle as he beamed next to her. He was enjoying her irritation. He hadn't intended to wear the same colors, it just _happened_ that way, and by the time he'd come down from the loft to her idling car, it was too late to change.

"So, what can you tell us about these scars?" Kate asked, ignoring Castle as he bounced on the balls of his feet beside her.

Lanie looked up at them, her mocha eyes shifting from Castle to Kate, her lips still bowed in an amused grin.

Resisting the urge to taunt her friends any further, she drew back the sheet that was covering the victim she'd just examined, exposing the woman's upper left shoulder.

Pointing at the scar, "You see how clean these lines are?" she asked the pair, glancing up at them to confirm that they were paying attention to her.

They nodded in unison.

"This indicates that these cuts were intentionally made. There are no jagged edges that would imply an accident or a stabbing. These scars were created deliberately, obviously _designed_ deliberately."

Kate shook her head, her soft curls bouncing against her shoulder. "Have you seen markings like this before?"

Lanie nodded and walked to her desk, waving at them to follow. She opened her laptop and swiveled it towards them. "Body scarification has been around since the dawn of time," she began. "In developing societies, members will scar their bodies to note great defeats and hunts." She pointed at the picture of an African man with crisscrossing scars and dots adorning his face. "Among most of the body modifications that take place in these communities, scars are used to mark important events in one's life, a sort of rite of passage." She held up one finger. "Obviously, that's not the case here."

"Why obviously?" Castle asked.

"Because by all accounts, these women were not part of a developing culture. They had well manicured nails, were wearing western clothing, one of them foils her hair, and not with that cheap stuff you get out of a bottle at the drug store." She clicked to another page on her computer. "What we're seeing here, is something akin to a gang tattoo." The computer screen flickered images of tattoo like scarring on arms and legs, in various shapes and patterns, much like a tattoo.

"Lanie, these women do not fit the profile of gang bangers," Kate argued.

"You're right. I said _akin_ to. My guess is, they're part of a secret society, maybe a cult. These markings are significant, but I can't tell you what they mean," she held up her finger again, "…at least not yet. I'll run them through the database, see if I get a hit, maybe _someone_ has seen these particular markings before."

Kate nodded. "Any luck I.D.'ing the vics?"

Lanie shook her head, "Not yet, but this one," she pointed to the woman on the slab, "…has had some extensive dental work, a few root canals, a couple of caps, and even an implant. I should be able to trace the implant to the manufacturer, which will narrow down where she had the work done."

Kate nodded. "Thank you, Lanie."

She chin nodded at Castle, "Let's check in with Ryan, maybe something's turned up from the canvas."

"Ahem."

Kate spun around to find Lanie giving her the death stare, her hands planted on her hips, one eyebrow quirked up.

"What?"

"Did you forget something?"

Tapered lines appeared on Kate's forehead as she stared at Lanie. "Forgot something?"

"Yes. Girl…" It sounded like a question. Lanie shot a glance at Castle before returning her narrowed gaze to Kate. "…your mind has not been in the game lately!"

"Lanie, I…" And, then she remembered, her eyes wide. "It's girls night tonight!" She snapped her fingers.

Lanie nodded, scowling at Castle, ready to give _him_ a death stare if Kate had cancelled their plans because of him_._

Kate turned to Castle just in time to see disappointment skittering across his face. "I forgot."

Lanie _harrumphed_.

"No worries, I'll be there! What time?"

Lanie unfolded her arms, "Why don't you meet me at seven."

"Okay," Kate promised, smiling at her friend, "Seven it is. The Old Haunt, right?"

Lanie nodded.

As they walked out of the morgue together, Castle leaned in to whisper in her ear. "But_, _Kate! It's_ The Slide _tonight_," _he whined.

Kate rolled her eyes. "We'll survive one night without the Kama Sutra, don't you think? Besides, weren't you just complaining that you're way behind with your writing?" She swished her hand in front of them. "This will give you the chance to catch up."

He sighed dramatically, folding his arms across his chest with a petulant _harrumph. _

She patted him on the back as they strolled down the long hallway, "Don't be a sad sack, Castle. It's not attractive."

* * *

**L**anie was laughing so hard she thought she might just pee her pants. "What makes Castle think he's even _flexible_ enough for all of those positions?"

Kate shook her head, giggling, "I don't know, but he's determined to try. You should have seen him when we tried the Catherine Wheel! I thought for sure we were in for a trip to the Emergency Room."

This set them off on another round of raucous laughter, Lanie holding her side as she waved at the server to bring them another round of drinks. "Oh, God, Kate. You are so lucky, what that man won't do for you!"

Kate smiled, her eyes crinkling, "I know, right? I never would have imagined it."

Lanie cocked her head, "Seriously?

"What do you mean?"

"Girl? Please! That man has been following you around like a puppy in love since the first day you met!"

"Well, maybe, but…"

"No buts! I am not _at_ _all_ surprised that he's the best you've ever had."

"Lanie, DO NOT tell him I told you that. His ego's big enough as it is!"

Lanie took a sip of her drink and then stood up, "I need the little girl's room."

While Lanie made her way across the crowded room, Kate reached into her back pocket and coaxed her phone out, checking for messages; there was one text from Castle.

_I miss you. _

Kate texted back. _I miss you, too. Are you getting any work done?_

Before she could even set the phone down he'd returned her text. _A little bit. Mostly I'm thinking about you._

She smiled, typing. _What are you wearing?_

The phone chimed within three seconds. _Kate!_

She laughed, _What?_

_You know what. You're sexting me!_

She looked up to see if Lanie was coming and spotted her in the corner chatting with a woman that Kate vaguely recognized, another ME perhaps. She returned to her phone. _We're just talking, Castle. If I were sexting you I'd be telling you what I would do to you if I were there. For example, something involving my mouth and your… _She let the sentence hang, knowing he'd happily fill in the blanks. She could feel her cheeks burn brightly, a gentle tickle build low in her belly, and she shifted in her seat.

_Neck?_

Oh, he was being coy. She smiled again, glancing over at Lanie who was still in an animated conversation with the other woman.

_No…_

_Cheeks?_

_No…_

_Feet?_

_Ew, No!_

_What's wrong with my feet?_

Kate laughed out loud, drawing attention from the couple at the table next to her, she gave them a sheepish smile and then returned to her phone. _Nothing's wrong with your feet, you have lovely feet, I just don't want them in my mouth._

_Fine. Fingers?_

_Mmmm, yes, I like sucking on your fingers, too…but that's not it. _

A few seconds passed before her phone chimed again. _I'm sending you a picture of what I think it is._ Before she could protest, a picture popped up on her screen. She cringed, seriously hoping he was _not_ sending her a picture of his _junk_.

In the photograph, he'd lifted his shirt up and was pointing at his nipple. A lopsided grin on her face, she quickly texted him back. _Very nice, Castle. And yes, that's a good guess, but I'm thinking of something a bit south of there. BUT DON'T SEND ME A PICTURE OF IT._ She quickly added.

_It's hard._

She glanced up, realizing her face was bright red, she'd been squirming in her seat, and had lost sight of Lanie, her friend probably having finally slipped into the ladies room.

_Mmmm, I like that._

_Because of you, Kate. Thoughts of you do that to me all the time. _

_Are you doing anything about it?_ She typed, one eyebrow quirked.

_Maybe._

He so totally was! _I'm watching you._ She typed. _I'm sitting on the desk in front of you, my shirt unbuttoned, my hands to myself. And, I'm watching you. _

_Kate!_

_My nipples are hard, _she typed, realizing that, indeed, they _were _getting hard at the thought of him sitting there, doing what he was doing to himself. She leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, hoping to tamp down the building tension between them. She looked back up, Lanie was making her way back to the table.

_Gotta go, Castle. Lanie's coming back from the bathroom. Stay that way for me. I'll be over when I'm finished here._

_Gah! Kate! You're killing me! _

She smiled, typing furiously as Lanie returned to her seat. _No dying while I'm away. I want you just the way you are right now. When I get there, I intend to have my way with you! _

She set the phone down and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping Lanie didn't notice the crimson glow that was creeping up her cheeks. "Who were you talking to?" Kate asked, attempting to be casual as she chin-nodded in the general direction of the woman Lanie had been chatting with.

Lanie gave her a look, her eyes dropping to Kate's phone. "Was that Castle?"

Kate sipped her drink, "Mmm hmm."

"Ah," Lanie smiled, winking. "Actually, I was talking with one of our lab techs, she got a hit on those scars. I'm going to review the file in the morning." She settled back into her chair.

Kate sat up. Finally, a break in the case. "Oh, good!" She was about to ask another question when her phone chimed. She resisted the urge to pick it up, not wanting to be rude in front of Lanie.

Her friend noticed, laughing. "Girl, if you don't look, then I will," she said, side-nodding at the smart phone.

Kate picked it up, a slow smile creeping across her face as she read his text.

_I've cleared off the desk for you._

**_A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or follow me on Twitter (krdaniels) and I'm happy to give you a link to the website. _**


	9. The Ape

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Nine: The Ape**

**H**e paced nervously back and forth in front of the examination bed, biting his fingernails down to the quick, his forehead a mass of crisscrossing lines, his lips pursed, his eyes troubled.

"Castle!" Only it came out _Cassooh_.

He stopped pacing to look at her, wincing when he watched her adjust the ice pack that was keeping her lip from swelling any further. He went to her side, slipping his hand inside of hers. "I am _so sorry_, Kate," he moaned, emphasizing the words _so_ and _sorry_.

She lifted the ice pack, "I know you sowwie," she mumbled, her words garbled by the swelling in her lip. She winced, the taste of fresh blood still coursing her tongue.

"It's just. I was. It got so," he didn't know _what_ he was saying. "I just was so _excited_ and when you did that thing? With your thighs?" he lowered his voice, "I just, I lost _control._"

His face was a mask of worry and regret and she reached for his hand again, squeezing it. "Cassooh, I know you sowwie, It's okay!"

He slumped in the chair next to her, "I just don't know my own _strength_ sometimes!" he shook his head.

Kate choked, stifling her laughter, mainly because it _hurt _to laugh, her hazel eyes twinkling. "That wasn't about stwaynth, Casooh. It was about _bawance!"_

"What?"

"Bawance," she repeated.

His looked at her blank-faced.

"_Bawance_!"

"Oh!" He flinched, "Balance!"

She nodded, pulling the washcloth covered ice pack away from her lip for a moment, the cloth nearly soaked through with blood.

He bobbed his head, "You could be right."

She was about to tell him that she _knew_ she was right when a young man in blue scrubs pulled back the curtain around her bed and interrupted them.

"Ms. Beckett?" he asked, not looking up from the chart in his hands.

"Wes," Kate replied.

He glanced up at her, "You have a laceration to the lip?"

"Wes," Kate answered.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

Castle stood up, practically knocking his chair over. "I, it was, I did it, it was an accident, she, um, she kind of fell into the wall," he tried to explain, plunging his hands into his front pockets.

The doctor turned his attention to Castle. "And you are?"

"Richard Castle. I'm, she's my, we're partners. You know, in life. I'm her boyfriend." He scratched the back of his head with one hand, his forehead still a mass of worry lines.

"Ah," the doctor replied. "Mr. Castle, I'm going to ask you to step out and wait for Ms. Beckett in the waiting room, please?"

Castle looked crestfallen, "But, I'm, we're, she's my."

"It's fine, doctooh. I'd like Cassooh to stay."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Beckett, but it's hospital policy that in cases like these," he regarded Castle, "…we examine you privately."

"Cases like _what_?" Castle asked.

"Please, Mr. Castle? The waiting area is just down the hall," he gestured past the curtain. "This won't take long, I'm sure you'll be very comfortable."

Castle pouted, but the doctor was unyielding and he didn't want to delay Kate getting the medical attention she needed for any longer than necessary, so he leaned over, pecked her on the forehead, and then backed out of the room. He nearly sent a tray of instruments crashing to the floor, and Kate could hear him apologize his way down the corridor.

The doctor turned his attention back to her and then fired off a series of medically related questions while meticulously washing his hands and putting on sterile gloves. Did she have any allergies? Was her tetanus shot up to date? Was she currently taking any medications, especially blood thinners?

No, she didn't know, yes, birth control.

The cut on her lip was still bleeding, and had already soaked through two washcloths. He leaned in, fingering the cut as Kate winced from the pain. "I'm afraid this will require a couple of sutures, Ms. Beckett."

Kate rolled her eyes and sighed. _Great._ _How do I explain this one at work? _She thought.

He positioned Kate on her back, inverting the exam bed so he could irrigate the wound. He gave her a local anesthetic, and then put three stitches into her lip. He covered it with a small bandage, instructing her to remove the covering after 24 hours. He raised the bed back up and told her someone would be in to meet with her shortly, give her a tetanus booster, and process her discharge papers.

Kate nodded, thanking him, and asked if he could send Castle back to see her.

"Not just yet, Ms. Beckett, but I'll let him know you're nearly finished."

"Thank you," Kate replied.

After about twenty minutes of twiddling her thumbs, Kate was about to discharge _herself_, when a middle-aged woman, wearing a long braid and dangly earrings came bustling into the room, a chart and some pamphlets in her hand.

"Hello Ms. Beckett, my name is Cindy Cookestan, I'm the hospital social worker." She extended her hand and Kate shook it, a puzzled look on her face.

And then, it dawned on her.

They thought she was a _battered_ _woman_!

Before Kate could explain that this was _indeed_ an accident, the social worker sat down and asked Kate if Castle had ever hit or pushed her before.

"No, never!" Kate replied.

"So, this was the first time?"

Kate shook her head. "No, no, you don't understand. Castle has never hit me. He's not a violent man," she replied.

"I see," her deep brown eyes still looked troubled. "Then how was he responsible for your injuries today?"

Kate blushed. "Um, well, we were." She glanced down at her hands as they twisted anxiously in her lap. "It was during sex."

The social worker looked nonplussed, as though she'd heard this story a million times before. She nodded, jotting down a note in her notebook. "Does he often get rough during sex?"

"Rough? Do you mean abusive? No, but, we, it's, this is making me very uncomfortable." Kate blurted, absently scratching the tip of her nose.

The woman smiled, she had a warm face, a welcoming, non-threatening face. "It's okay. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just want to make sure you're safe."

Kate nodded. "I'm safe, Ms. Cookeston. Castle is not a perpetrator of domestic violence."

The woman pointed at Kate's lip, "Current injury notwithstanding?"

Kate rubbed her forehead, an embarrassed smile on her face. "We have been trying out the Kama Sutra sex positions? And, we got to number nine? The ape? And, well, at a very crucial moment, Castle kind of lost his balance," she chuckled, "…and his _mind_. And flung me across the room. I wound up breaking the fall when my face slammed into the wall."

"Ouch," the social worker added.

"Yeah," Kate agreed, fingering the bandage that covered the three sutures on her lip. "So, you see, this was truly just an accident," Kate explained. "He feels _terribly." _

The social worker nodded, her eyes narrowing. "And, you feel safe at home? Safe in this relationship?"

Kate nodded. "I'm a homicide detective, Ms. Cookeston. I'm aware of the dynamics of domestic violence, and I can promise you that that is not what is going on here."

The woman snapped her book closed and capped her pen. "Very well, Ms. Beckett. I just had to be sure. I'd like to give you one of these anyway, okay?" She handed Kate a pamphlet entitled _Am I a Victim of Domestic Violence_?

"Of course," Kate nodded. "Thank you."

The social worker pointed at Kate's bandaged lip. "I suggest you get him into a yoga class before you take on position fifteen." She stood up, shaking her head, "We've seen more than a few couples come through here because of _that_ one!"

Kate chin nodded, a smile curving one side of her face. "I'll keep that in mind!"

* * *

**H**alf an hour later, Castle was escorting Kate out of the building and to the idling cab, remorsefully side-glancing at her every few feet as they strolled down the long corridor.

"Castle! You have to stop doing that! I'm fine! Even the swelling has gone down. Please?"

He softened, "Sorry, sorry. I'm just, ugh…" he groaned. "So, why wouldn't they let me in there with you?"

Kate reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his as they walked, "They thought you'd abused me." She showed him the pamphlet.

Castle stopped in his tracks. His mouth agape, a look of shame and regret sweeping his features. "What?"

"Castle, it's okay. I explained what happened."

He made a dagger-like gesture to his chest. "Kate, I would never…"

She squeezed his hand. "Castle, I know you wouldn't. It's standard ER procedure. Please, don't worry about it."

They started walking again. "I guess I'm glad they have those safeguards in place. For women, who, you know, who _are _abused."

Kate nodded.

"It also explains all of the dirty looks I was getting from the nurses at the ER station," he shrugged, thumbing behind him. "I just figured they were Stephen King fans."

* * *

**C**astle was nestled comfortably in Kate's bed, a book in his hands, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom. They'd come home from the hospital and spent the day lounging around the house, reading, watching TV, napping, he'd cooked her dinner, doted on her as much as he could. Still feeling horribly guilty, he'd even ordered a dozen long-stemmed red roses that were delivered just before they sat down to eat dinner. She kept shushing him, and finally told him that if he apologized one more time, _she_ was going to give _him _a fat lip!

She'd asked him to stay the night, so he'd quickly undressed, neatly folding his clothes and placing them in his drawer, and then climbed between the sheets, wearing just a t-shirt and boxers.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, he dropped his book and gasped, gaping at her slack-jawed.

She was wearing short black lingerie and matching panties.

And, a motorcycle helmet.

Complete with a face shield.

As she sauntered forward, lifting one knee onto the foot of the bed and crawling towards him, he stuttered, "Kate, what? You. I don't. What are you doing?"

"Getting back on the horse, Castle," she explained. "With the appropriate precautions, of course." she knocked at the top of the helmet with one curled fist.

Castle let out a booming laugh. "Okay, okay, hint received. I'll be more careful next time!"

Kate rose up on her knees above him, straddling his thighs, the helmet moving side-to-side as she shook her head. "I'm serious, Castle. We're going to finish what we started. I'm not letting that damn Ape get the best of us."

"You're really serious?" He half-chuckled, half-growled.

The ascension of her hands up his thighs told him she was _dead_ serious, and before he knew it, she'd hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down.

He rose to meet her.

"Just don't catapult me across the room this time," she warned.

* * *

**A/N: Although this story addresses the issue with light-heartedness, domestic violence is an unfortunate reality in the United States and around the world. Approximately 1.3 million American women are victims of domestic assault annually, and nearly one third of women around the world have been victimized by an intimate partner at some point in their lives. Domestic violence is not a private matter, it is a ****_crime_****. **

**For more information, or to seek help, please visit the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV), or The Advocates for Human Rights (theadvocatesforhumanrights). Both web addresses are dot org. **

**Thanks to my partner, Michelle, for being my unofficial medical consultant for this story. Did you ever think all of your years of medical education, training and practice would come to such delightful use?**

**And mad thanks to all of you for your lovely reviews, follows, and favorites. I hope this project has been as much fun for you as it is proving to be for me! **

**If you would like to see this position, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I'll be happy to send you the link. You can also follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	10. The Butterfly

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Ten: The Butterfly**

He had always felt at his most creative in the middle of the night. Something about being cocooned in the soft glow of the desk lamp, the flickering light from the computer screen, while all around him existed nothing but muted darkness. The hustle and bustle of the city below having given way to a dampened, almost macabre feel, with shadows emerging from behind the alleys and doorways that measured an uneven distance along the stained concrete of Manhattan's sidewalks.

Tonight was no different. After he'd watched Kate fall asleep, the measured rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign that she was off somewhere in the land of nod, he'd slipped out of bed and into his favorite blue terry cloth bathrobe. Tiptoeing out of the room, he closed the door between his office and bedroom, so as not to wake her, and sat down at the massive desk, his fingers flying across the keyboard as soon as the MacBook Air had fired up.

Their recent sexual adventures had inspired his next chapter between Heat and Rook, and his mind was spinning with the imagery he wanted to include in their next love scene. He'd hesitated to write it, it was more _detailed_ than his normal style. But, tonight he was feeling inspired, so thought he'd give it a go.

_Nikki Heat had just finished clearing the dishes from the kitchen table while Rook filled the cavernous sink with hot soapy water. He slipped the two large cobalt blue dinner plates into the water, followed by the drinking glasses, silverware, and serving platters. He swirled his fingers around the bubbly mix, creating tiny counter clockwise cyclones, before plunging the sponge in to scrub the plates clean. _

_He didn't even hear her approach and stiffened briefly as she snaked her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his warm back, the soft cotton of his white t-shirt a soothing balm on her sunburned face. _

_"Why don't you go relax," Rook said, "I've got this." _

_She moaned, a soft low-throated moan that sounded more like the contented purring of a big cat, probably a lioness. "I'll help." She moved her hands around him, her fingers dipping into the warm water, tracing his hand as it held the sponge. _

_"Careful, there," Rook warned, "Or these won't get done at all." _

_"Would that be the end of the world?" she asked, gently rocking her hips against his fabulous ass. "The dishes can always wait," she teased. _

_He chuckled. "You're trying to tempt me, Nikki." _

_"Trying? Or, succeeding?" _

_He spun around, droplets of tepid water flying from his hands, landing in haphazard patterns on the floor around them, and pulled her to him, their mouths meeting, lips and tongues choreographed like a well-rehearsed ballet. She took his bottom lip between her teeth, toying with it before letting it go and then plunging her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. _

_He pressed his hips against her, and she could feel his growing excitement. _

_She quirked an eyebrow, her eyes darting down to look at the space between them. "Well, Mr. Rooke, I'd say your mind isn't on the dishes, is it?" _

_"Not even close," he mumbled, backing her up to the table, his pelvis pitching towards her, one hand under her shirt, cupping her breasts. _

_She snaked one leg around him, her mouth traveling along his jaw, nipping at his earlobe as he gathered the hem of her grey t-shirt and journeyed it up and over her head, tossing it aside. Not realizing (until later) he'd just pitched it into the dishwater. _

_She reached around with both hands and quickly unclasped her bra, letting it fall off her shoulders and to the floor as his hands greedily cupped her, his lips hot on her throat. She felt dizzy and disoriented, succumbing to his touch, her body humming against him. _

_Wrapping her hands around his neck, she arched her back, her breasts pressing against the palms of his hands, his thumb and forefinger teasing her nipples, coaxing them, their rise and hardening an honest result of his expert ministrations. _

_In the half-light he watched as her hands mapped a trail along his chest, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He was struck by how well they fit together, how every touch of her against him was like magic, how he always felt like a little boy staring wide-eyed through the front gates at Disney World, not able to even conceive of the adventures to come, but knowing they were going to be awesome__**.**_

_She pulled his shirt off and the moonlight traced, in black and white like an artists sketch, the muscles of his chest and abdomen, the gentle lines of his ribcage. Her hands followed its path, teasing and kneading the rise of muscle over bone, feeling the furious rate of his heartbeat as it slammed against his chest. _

_For a second he fumbled with the button on her jeans, until she reached down to help him, shoving the denim swiftly down her long statuesque legs, her panties quickly following. Then they took care of his pants, gathering his boxers along with them and they stood in the middle of her kitchen, completely naked, completely open and willing and wanting each other. _

_She was helpless, half laughing with delight, all wetness and wanting and wild, her eyes scanning the fullness of his arousal, feeling the stirrings of her own. _

_"Up," Rook commanded, guiding Nikki onto the edge of the kitchen table. "I want you here, right now, Nikki. Like this." _

_He grabbed her ankles with powerful hands, placing her legs over his shoulders, lifting the bottom half of her body up towards him. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands, her knuckles white, her head slamming back against the hard wood of the table. She didn't care, didn't feel it, just wanted him, wanted him inside of her. _

_And then he was. He was there, filling her, slamming into her, over and over. Pumping, fucking, his cock thick and hard inside of her. _

_The orgasm was sharp and hard when it crashed into her, washing over her like a tsunami, and he coaxed her with dirty words as she cried out, his name roaring past her lips like the lead car on a roller coaster. _

_"Rook! Fuck. God. Rook!" _

_He kept it up, his furious pace, in and out, keeping her lower body off the table, her legs rigid as they pressed hard against his shoulders. She clutched the edge of the table, her toes curling and yielded to the powerful ripples of pleasure coursing throughout her body, surging, shuddering, finally subsiding into small pulsing phantoms. _

_She could feel him approach his own climax and it was her turn to spill dirty words, coaxing his orgasm, telling him to come, to come hard, to come inside of her. _

_She did not have to ask, he did not need to be told, he dug his hands into the soft flesh of her hips and ass, increasing the pace of his pelvis as his body quivered and shuddered, melting into hers. His orgasm taking possession of his body, his mind, higher and higher, soaring and reaching, and then spiraling back down. _

_And then he sighed, with anguish and release, his hips slowing, his eyes fluttering shut, and her name stumbled from his lips as he released one last thrust into her before going soft and slowly pulling out. _

_"God, Nikki."_

_"Yeah," _

_He chin nodded to the top of the table, and she scooted backwards. He climbed on top of the sturdy piece of furniture, crawling beside her and laying on his side next to her. _

_"Wow." _

_She grinned, "Yeah." _

"Castle, what are you doing?"

Startled, his head snapped up and he squinted to see her past the flickering light of his laptop.

She padded into the room, sliding onto his lap. "Writing?"

"Mmm hmm," he replied, his hands sliding up her bare thigh, tripping on the hem of her short pajama bottoms. "Just finished a chapter."

"Can I read it?"

He hesitated, "It's just the first draft, Kate. It's not…"

But she'd already turned the laptop towards her and was scanning the screen, her eyes furiously reading the words his fingers had just tapped out. When she was done, she turned back to him, her eyes laughing, her mouth curved into a lopsided grin.

"Castle. You cannot use this."

"Why?"

"Because, this is us. Not two hours ago! This is the Butterfly Position!"

"It is?" He looked closer at the words dotting his screen. "Huh. I didn't even realize that's what I was writing."

"Besides, they'll never let you publish it like that!

"Wha-?"

She raised one hand in the air, "Castle. It's _porn._ It's too explicit!"

He rubbed his chin. "You think so?"

She grabbed his chin, then playfully slapped his cheek. "Yes, and you do too."

He laughed, "Yeah, I know. I just got a little carried away." He lifted his butt off the chair, jostling her in his lap.

"Ya think?" she agreed, getting up and reaching for his hand, "An honest result of his expert ministrations?" she teased. "His cock, _thick_ and _hard_ inside of her?" She rolled her eyes, "Ew."

"Ew? I thought you liked my…"

"I love your," her eyes slipped to the place between his legs, "I just don't like that _word._"

"Ah," he said. "What word do you prefer?"

She cupped him, her eyes dancing in the dim light. "Do I _need_ a word?"

He flinched, "Whoa. No. Yes. Ah. Jeez, Beckett!"

She half-laughed, half-purred as they crawled back into bed, tucking the covers up to her chin, Kate turned to look at him as he hovered over her. "Do you really feel like little a boy looking through the gates at Disney World?"

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that adorably boyish way that always made her melt. "When I'm with you?"

She nodded.

"Always."

**A/N: If you would like to see this position, do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra", or PM me and I will share the link to the website. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels)**


	11. The Ascent to Desire

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Eleven: The Ascent to Desire**

They'd closed the place down. The five of them. Kate, Castle, Lanie, Espo and Ryan. Having spent the better part of the evening working a new lead on the case - one of the three vics had been identified - they'd decided to decompress by getting a drink.

Which had turned into two.

Then, three.

And then three had turned into four.

And they weren't working the case anymore, they were laughing and teasing and fighting, especially Lanie and Esposito after Javier had lobbed a particularly ill-timed lurid joke at her, halting all conversation as everyone looked at Lanie to see how she'd react. Which she did by shooting him a _classic _Lanie-esque eyebrow raise. Kate had smiled into her drink, Castle and Ryan leaning back and away from their friend and colleague, _Glad I'm not you, bro!_ etched on their amused faces. And, Espo had ducked his head, hiding behind his beer, trying to make himself as small as possible, hoping against hope that this didn't mean she wouldn't be going home with him tonight.

And then she'd laughed. "I'm just messing with ya, Javi."

"Really?" he asked, brightening.

"No. Not really. But I'll deal with you _later_," she replied, cocking her head, her lips curved into a lopsided grin, both eyebrows raised high in a _you know damn well what I mean _manner.

"I'll be looking forward to that," he answered, toasting her with his beer bottle, a knowing glint in his eye. He raised the amber ale to his lips and took a well-earned swig.

She shook her head but couldn't help smiling at him, an unspoken promise in her eyes that, yes, she _would_ be going home with him tonight.

Ryan was the first to get up, stumbling a bit but easily catching himself. He thumbed behind him, "I'm gonna get a cab. Go home. Hope Jenny isn't too upset with me for staying out so late."

Castle harrumphed. "Jenny is a _saint_, Ryan. You'll be fine." He stood up and slapped the detective on the shoulder. "You're a lucky man!"

He heard a small cough, a familiar cough, a cough that told him he was in trouble, and he quickly recovered, sweeping his hand around the table, "All three of us are lucky men, we definitely married _up! _Wait, not _married_, ha ha, I mean. Er. We…"

"We know what you mean, bro. Stop talking." Esposito advised.

"Roger that," Castle replied, sitting back down and looking sheepishly at the center of the table.

"I should probably get going, too," Lanie announced, taking one last sip of her wine, squeezing Kate's forearm and winking, her eyes briefly landing on the three small sutures on Kate's lip; a reminder of Castle's epic fail with The Ape position.

Castle wondered what secret had just been shared between the two. The tiny smile on Kate's face telling him it was _something_, but he knew better than to ask; she would never spill the secrets shared between her and Lanie, no matter how much he cajoled, begged or whined. He'd even tried to trick her once, but it had backfired and _he'd_ ended up telling _her_ about Javi and Ryan and an unfortunate incident involving a bowl of spoiled crab dip and a trio of exotic dancers. The two detectives had made him give up the Ferrari for a week as punishment for his loose lips.

"Guess that means me, too," Esposito announced, slamming back the last of his beer. "Er, I mean," he looked at Lanie who briefly closed her eyes while offering him an almost imperceptible nod of her head. "Night, guys." He said, waving at Kate and Castle and holding Lanie's chair as she stood, too.

"You guys driving?" Castle asked, pointing at the pair.

"Cab," Esposito answered.

Castle gave him the thumbs up. "Have fun."

Lanie shot him a look and Castle grinned awkwardly. Kate rolled her eyes, but was secretly amused. She might pretend to be annoyed by Castle's lack of a filter, but truth be told she actually _enjoyed_ it.

Most of the time.

After sending the remaining staff home, Castle telling them he'd close up (after all, it was _his_ bar), he locked the doors, pulled the shades, and then turned around to find Kate leaning back in her chair, one hand casually draped over the back of it. She'd seductively trapped one finger between her teeth, and was staring at him. Staring at him with _that_ look on her face, her eyes dancing playfully in the half-light.

He sauntered towards her, a bar towel thrown over one shoulder, and cocked his head. "Why, Detective, it appears you have something on your mind?"

Her eyes fluttered, just briefly, to the zipper of his jeans, and she smiled. "Maybe."

He continued his approach, a crooked smile bewitching his face. "Care to enlighten me?"

She was swinging her leg, the one crossed over her knee, and as he approached, she lifted it up and hooked it around him, pulling him towards her. She sat up, her chameleon eyes never leaving his and without words, without warning, she reached up and unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his pants, tugging at the zipper.

"Whoa, Kate," Castle exclaimed, his face turning pink.

She stood up, pressing her softest parts against him. "Can I confess something?"

"Yes," he answered, his hooded eyes following her wandering hands as they ambled over his chest.

She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. "I've always wanted to have sex in a public place."

He growled, then chuckled. "You have, huh?"

She nodded, her lips skimming the stubble of his chin as her hand slipped briefly between his jeans and boxers, her fingers tripping over his growing erection. "Mmm, hmm."

"Well, ah," he stuttered, looking around the empty bar. "Technically, this _is_ a public place."

She continued to unbutton his shirt, her fingers working swiftly, and then slid one hand beneath the expensive fabric, her cool hands sending shivers along his warm skin. "Mmm hmm," she replied, her lips traveling his jaw, the column of his neck, his pulse point that was now rising and falling at a rapidly increasing rate.

"So," he mumbled, kissing her, the firm press of his lips melting against the softness of hers, mindful of the still-tender spot where three stitches held her flesh together. He walked his hands around her waist, inching his way below her sweater to gather the soft material and pull it up and over her head, their lips parting only when the pillowy fabric came between them. "We should," more kissing, tongues and lips and teeth engaged in a harmonious dare.

She coiled her leg around his, grinding her pelvis. "_Fuck," _she finished for him_. _

He fumbled with the zipper of her jeans, and once open, roughly pushed them down her legs at the same time that she was slipping out of her shoes. He reached around and unclasped her bra, throwing it aside, and then looked at her pale breasts with a tender hunger. He kissed them, softly, warmly, at first, the left breast, then the right, in turn. Carefully, expertly, his fingers toyed with her nipples, then he bit them playfully, nibbling at one, then the other, rewarded by their immediate rise in his mouth, the curling of her fingers in his hair.

The desire for him to take her, to touch her, was becoming unbearable. A space was opening, a wetness, a desperate expectation and she moved her hips towards him, a slow gust of air escaping her lungs in one long excruciating sigh.

His mouth waltzed down her pale stomach, kissing a trail to her naval like a dark retreating tide, lapping at the shore. She wiggled as he pulled down her panties, lowering them past her thighs, her calves; her bare foot tickled by the soft cotton as he dropped to both knees in front of her and guided her feet from the delicate garment.

His hands ascended her thighs, urging her legs apart then lifting one and flinging it over his shoulder.

When his mouth was on her, his tongue coaxing through her soft flesh to the hardened bundle of nerves at her center, she threw her head back and cried out, his name echoing throughout the empty bar, reverberating from the high ceilings and expansive walls.

Over and over. And over, again.

He kissed and nibbled, his tongue darting and weaving against her clit, quick and sweet like a flickering flame. Her heartbeat pounded, her entire body tingled and the delicious prickling of pleasure made her shudder, her breath falter, her legs tremble beneath her, threatening to crumble, reduce her to a puddle of quivering want, aching _need._ And then, everything dazzled like a flash of rose lightening and her words come surging forth.

"Oh, God...Castle...Oh, God!"

She bucked against him, circling her hips and he had to hold her still with both hands as the orgasm swept over her. He flattened his tongue against her clit, feeling her contractions as they arrived, wave after wave of carnal pleasure.

And then she was still, the orgasm retreating like low tide in summer and he turned and kissed the soft inside of her inner thigh, sending delicious shards of pleasure on a transcontinental path along her naked flesh.

"That was…it was…" She could barely speak, barely breathe. But she wasn't done. She wasn't done with him and she urged him back up her body, her fingers digging into his scalp, his shoulders, his chest, kneading him as he rose to his feet.

He shrugged out of his remaining clothing scooped her up in his arms. "Did you look?"

Coiled around him, she traced the shell of his ear with her tongue and whispered, "What?"

"At the position. For today. Did you look?" His lips skimmed her forehead, her eyebrow, he kissed her closed eyelid before his mouth captured hers and they kissed, their tongues meeting, coaxing, dancing, her breath savory and sweet at the same time.

"No," she answered, panting, her body pressed against his rigid flesh, the throbbing between her legs building again.

"It's called The Ascent to Desire," he explained, gathering her earlobe between his teeth, scraping her flesh before letting go.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, nuzzling his neck with the soft press of her lips. "Show me."

He took her right leg and wrapped it around his waist and then deftly lifted her up, like a ballet dancer lifting his naked ballerina, and she wrapped her legs around him, easing onto him, savoring the feeling of his full erection filling her as she arched her back, another slow moan tumbling past her swollen parted lips.

He grasped her hips, thrusting inside of her as she coiled around him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, their bodies smashed together. The sensation was inexplicable, and her soul yielded to his soul, her strength to his strength, sublime, and powerful, and overwhelming all at the same time.

Breathing deeply he took her entirely, thrusting again, deeply and slowly, and she looked at him from beneath half-closed eyelids, her eyes glassy and unfocused, but swimming with desire. Desire for him. For this. For _them_ together.

And, it only took twenty-one seconds before she was coming again, her body shuddering and violent, the orgasm surprising her. _Twenty-one seconds!_ It was sharper, harsher, quicker and she didn't want him to slow down for her so she coaxed him along, whispering in his ear to keep going, keep _fucking._

And, he did, holding her with solid arms, like Hercules, his body reminding her of something Greek and noble, heroic, and she surrendered to him, submitted to him, not realizing that _he_ was thinking _she_ was dominating _him_.

He plunged in and out of her.

And in. And out.

Until _he _was coming, crashing, her name roaring past his lips like a freight train, his whole body trembling, tensing, flexing, shuddering, _quaking_. And she thought for a minute that he might drop her, but she was like a feather in his arms, light and malleable, and he held her easily, his lips buried against her neck as he savored the vestiges of his orgasm, the orgasm that _she_ had given him, the spasms slowing, elongating, fading with each deliberate thrust until he was spent, empty, _complete._

He backed her up to the wall, moved his arms to rest against the wall on either side of her head, recovering his breath, steadying his heart. And then his lips descended upon her, traveling her neck, her jawline, the corner of her mouth before his tongue teased her lips apart and they kissed deeply, with meaning and attention, every fiber of _them_ in each lick and nip and press of soft lips on firm. It was like a divine awakening, their kiss as hallowed as a Gregorian mass, a vesper, rising like an angelic chorus, holy and sacred, and conquered with the immense love that he felt for her, and she felt for him.

He remembered that he was still inside of her, her mutable inner muscles gently contracting against him, and he eased out of her, then lowered her to the floor, holding her up until her feet found purchase and she could stand on her own. She slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest, a contented sigh rising from her throat as she attempted to catch her breath, calm her heart rate.

"I can see why it's called the _Ascent_ to Desire," she purred, smiling against his solid muscles, his body warm and humming.

He framed her face with both hands, kissed her, his eyes dancing in the low light, and whispered, "You can check that one off your list, Kate."

She opened her eyes and struggled to focus. "Hmmm?"

"Sex in a public place? Wasn't it on your bucket list?"

"Oh, no. Not really. I just said that to get you, to, you know."

He gasped dramatically, his mouth dropping open. "I feel so _used." _

"Oh, yeah, buddy, you've got it _so_ bad. Used for sex," she kissed the tip of his nose. "However will you recover?"

He grinned, the corners of his eyes adorned with radiating lines. "You've become rather sarcastic lately, Kate. Methinks perhaps you're spending too much time with my mother."

Kate chuckled, her hands sliding down the broad expanse of his bare chest, her fingers feathering the curly thatch of hair, before patting him reassuringly. "Don't worry, Castle. You know what they say about men who date strong women." She looked around to find her clothing, amused by how it had been flung all around them.

Vertical lines interrupted the space between his eyes and he cocked his head, "No. What _do_ they say?"

She was already picking up her clothes from the floor, glancing at him with amused eyes, a soft _ha_ dancing across her lips. She glanced between his legs and raised her eyebrows, a crooked smile adorning her face.

He blushed. "Oh, heheh. _That._"

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, tossing him his boxers. "That."

**A/N: If you would like to see this position, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I am happy to send you a link to the website; you can also follow me on Twitter (krdaniels)**

**Thank you, all of you, for your unbelievably kind response to this story! I truly appreciate it. -dk**


	12. The Balancing Act

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twelve: The Balancing Act**

**A/N: **_I advise you to go look at this position before reading. My description here is bare as I found it took away from the story to spend too much time with the detail of it. Go, check it out, Caskett will be here (in an impossible position) when you get back._

* * *

"Would you just hold still?"

"I can't help it! I have really long legs, Kate. They aren't meant to bend that way,"

"I have long legs, too, you don't see _me_ complaining."

"Well, I'm BIG, too!" he argued.

She smirked, "Don't _we_ think a lot of ourselves?"

He snorted, his hands against her back, trying to help her stay balanced. "Not like that."

"Um."

"Okay, like _that_, but that's not what I meant."

She laughed, raising herself off the bed. "Now, keep your knees bent, I'm going to try again."

She balanced against him, lifting her folded legs up in the air, her hands against his bottom. "Now, put your legs around me, but not so much that you make me fall off," she instructed. But as soon as he'd moved his left leg, he'd nudged her knee so far that she'd had to catch her balance, and she fell off of him again, her rump landing on the mattress with an unceremonious _thump. _

They descended into gales of helpless laughter. "Ugh." She slapped the bed, "It's no use, Castle. I don't think we're going to master this position. Plus, it's so _not_ sexy!"

"Well, it might help if we actually took our clothes off," he complained, stretching his cramped legs out in front of him.

She turned around to face him, sitting cross-legged at his feet. "No way. I'm not looking for a repeat of that damned ape position," she shuddered, her fingers tracing the small scar that still marred her lower lip. "We needed to practice this one first."

"Ooh, right," he flinched, remorse skittering across his face. "Yeah, no, we don't want _that_."

Kate crawled up the bed, resting her head on his shoulder, one arm flung over his broad chest. "Maybe we should just watch TV tonight?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, his phone buzzed on the table beside them. He picked it up and saw his Mothers dramatic face smiling down at him. "Mother," he explained.

He swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear, "Hello, Mother."

Kate watched as his face went from amusement to concern to outright worry and they both sat up in the bed. He told his mother he'd be right there, and then he tapped _end_ on the phone, staring at Kate. "She's at the hospital. I can't tell what happened, but she sounds upset." He swung his legs out of bed, "I have to go."

Kate scrambled off the bed, slipping into her shoes as she pulled on a sweater. "I'll come with."

* * *

**H**e hurried down the long hallway, Kate on his heels, crisscrossing lines dotting his forehead as he searched for the nurses station.

"Richard."

He spun around to find Martha sitting on a hard plastic chair tucked inside of a visitors alcove. Her make-up mussed, lipstick smeared all over her chin, her clothing in disarray. He went to her.

"Mother! Are you alright? What happened?"

She waved her hand dismissively in front of her face, "Oh, yes, darling. I'm fine." She reached for the tissue Kate was holding out to her and blew her nose. "I'm not the one who got," she paused, gripping the tissue in her fist and holding it up to her lips, her eyes blinking as she fought back tears, "..._injured." _

Kate sat on the other side of her, leaning into the older woman, "Martha, were you in a car accident?"

Martha shook her head, her perfectly coiffed hair not moving an inch, "No, no. Nothing like that," she wailed.

Castle glanced at Kate quizzically, "Well, then what? Mother, what happened?"

Martha let her tissue clad fist fall into her lap as she raised her eyes to the ceiling, one hand over her heart. She looked at her son, her eyes swimming with regret. "Oh, Richard. It was simply _awful_." She took a deep breath, collecting herself. "Do you remember that lovely gentleman I met at Alan Alda's birthday party? Roger Hammer?"

Castle nodded.

Martha shook her head, her eyes fluttering, "Oh, darling. I just can't believe it!"

"Believe what?" Castle asked, panicked. "Mother, will you please just tell me what happened?"

Kate interrupted, "Oh my goodness, Martha. Did he have a heart attack?"

"No, no," Martha blurted. "Worse!"

"Worse?" Kate asked, her eyebrows raised, vertical lines forming between them.

"Oh, it's all my fault," she cried, waving her hand in the air to emphasize her point.

"_What_ is all your fault, Mother?"

"I..." She began, covering her mouth with her fingertips and glancing between them.

"I broke his..."

"What? What did you break?"

Martha sighed, her hands bunched up in fists as she slapped them into her lap, she cocked her head.

"I broke his penis!"

Castle rocketed out of his seat as though he'd just been stung, one hand scrubbing his face, the other held out in front of him, shielding his eyes from his mother. "You...?" He couldn't even say it.

Kate leaned back, desperately trying to hide the widening smile on her lips. "You broke his..." she glanced at Castle, her face a mask of amusement, "..._penis_?"

Martha nodded, raising one hand and then letting it fall dramatically into her lap. "I broke his penis!" She looked at Kate, horrified. "His _penis!" _

"Okay, can we please stop saying _penis?" _Castle begged, pacing back and forth in front of the two women.

"Poor Roger," Kate mumbled.

"Richard, darling, can you please go in there and talk to him?" She shook her head, wiping her nose with the tissue. "He won't see me."

Castle stopped pacing and stared at her in disbelief. "What? Are you kidding? No, I'm not going in there!"

"Please, darling. I need to make sure he's alright."

"No," Castle answered. "I'm sure he's getting," he winced, resisting the urge to cover his own penis with his hands. "...the help he needs." He shook his head, "He's not going to want to talk to me."

"But, he won't talk to me, either!" Martha wailed. "Richard, please!"

"Well, can you blame him?" Castle accused, his eyes blazing. He glanced at Kate who was covering her mouth with her fingertips, desperately trying not to laugh. She wasn't helping. "You _maimed_ him in the worst possible way a man can be maimed. I think it's safe to say there will be no fourth date, Mother."

"Second."

"What?"

"No second date, this was our first..."

He held out a staying palm, squeezing his eyes shut as he resumed his pacing, "You know what? I don't want to know."

"Oh," she started to wring her hands, her eyebrows furrowed. "I should have known to be more careful. I have such a voracious..."

"Mother! Please?"

"What's wrong, darling?"

Castle just looked at Kate, dumfounded, shaking his head as if saying _you see what I have to deal with?_ "Can we please just go? I'll take you home." He gave her a _come hither_ gesture, rolling his wrist at her.

"No," Martha refused, folding her arms across her chest and sitting back in her chair. "I'm not going anywhere until I know he's alright."

He let his hand fall to his side and stared straight up at the ceiling.

"Castle. I think you should just go in there and talk to him," Kate quietly suggested. "Just let him know that Martha's out here, worried, and that she's not leaving until..."

"Okay. Fine." He pointed at his mother. "But you are going to _so_ owe me for this."

"I gave birth to you, darling." She picked up a magazine and began flipping through the pages. "Fourteen hours of hard labor." She looked up at him matter-of-factly. "I will _never_ owe you _anything_."

Castle's shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He wasn't going to win. He shuffled out of the room and down the hall to Roger Hammer's hospital room, trying to collect the words that would even _allow_ him to have this awkward conversation.

Ten minutes later he was back and waving them both out of the alcove. "Let's go."

Martha stood, her bracelets jangling like a wind chime. "Well?"

"He'll be fine. Surgery tomorrow, he'll be as good as new," Castle explained hurriedly, reaching for Kate's hand. "But, yeah, you are definitely _not_ getting that second date."

Martha snapped her fingers, "Damn! He was a..."

"Mother. Please? I already need to bleach my brain with the image of you..." He scrunched up his face, "...I don't need any more details about Roger Hammer!"

"Fine, fine. Darling. But it's a real shame. We could have made beautiful babies together."

Castle rolled his eyes as Kate quietly giggled.

Oh, she just _loved_ Martha!

* * *

**T**hey were back at her place, snuggled in on the couch, a movie on, a bowl of popcorn nestled between them. As they watched the actors dance across the screen, Kate gently raked her fingers through his hair, and Castle sighed, burrowing against her.

"Kate?"

"Hmmm?"

"Promise me something?"

"What?"

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her earnestly, his baby-blue's shining with sincerity.

"What, Castle?" She asked, taking her eyes off of the television to offer him her full attention.

"Promise me you'll never break my penis."


	13. The Splitting Bamboo

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirteen: The Splitting Bamboo**

Lanie chuckled. "Leave it to Castle's mother to break some poor man's _penis_!" she looked up from the microscope, lifting one eyebrow. "What do you want to bet it's not the first time she's done it?"

"I wouldn't take that bet," Kate replied, smiling at her friend. She chin-nodded at the microscope. "What's the breaking news?"

Lanie straightened up, "Oh," she waved at the machine. "Not this." She walked over to her desk and picked up a file, handing it to Kate. "This."

Kate opened the file and peered at the autopsy photographs, close ups of the scars they'd discovered last week. Kate waved the file with one hand, "What am I looking at, Lanie? I've seen these."

"No, you haven't seen _these_," Lanie corrected, reaching into the file and pulling out three photographs of the victims faces.

"Wait," Kate started, her mouth dropping open. "These aren't our vics."

Lanie folded her arms in front of her. "Exactly." She pointed at the file in Kate's hands. "Those victims are from a multiple homicide in Wyoming." Pausing, she added, "Happened last month."

"Let me guess," Kate asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "No arrests."

"No arrests," Lanie confirmed.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"I'm here, I'm here. Sorry, I'm late," Castle apologized, bursting through the door with a coffee in each hand. "What's the big break?" He asked, looking from Lanie to Kate. He handed Kate her cup and then sipped from his own. Staring at the pair eagerly. "Well?"

"We just got fucked," Kate explained.

"Wha-?"

She handed him the file. "Same crime scene, same number of victims, same scars, a month ago in Wyoming," she explained, holding the paper coffee cup with both hands and taking a generous sip.

Castle looked at the file, his eyes narrowing. "I remember this case," he snapped his fingers. "I read about it in the paper," He raised an eyebrow, his voice low. "That morning, remember? After we..." He looked up at her and quickly snapped his mouth shut. Kate was giving him the death stare, Lanie smirking behind her, and he quickly looked back down at the file, his ears turning bright red. "So why does this mean we're fucked?" He scratched behind one ear.

"Because we now have a bona-fide serial killer on our hands." Kate explained. "A serial killer who has crossed state lines."

He nodded. "Which means this case is now in federal jurisdiction."

"Yup," she confirmed.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

* * *

**S**he paced back and forth in front of the murder board, photos of the Wyoming victims added to it, along with the name of Jane Doe number two, Allison Perkins.

Ryan approached from the records room where he'd been poring through the NYPD database as well as the ancient microfiche, searching for any other similarities to their current case. Kate looked up, hopefully, stopping in her well-worn tracks. "Well?" She asked, her hands on her hips.

"Nothing." Ryan shook his head.

She made a face. "Dammit!"

"Kate," Castle asked. "Why are you agonizing over this?"

She bit her thumbnail before answering. "Because I want to unearth every bit of evidence I can to convince the feds to let us keep jurisdiction."

"Have they even contacted you?"

"No," Kate replied.

"Then, why-?"

"I can smell them." She replied, "They'll be here." She wagged her finger at him. "Just watch."

* * *

**S**he stood hunched over the kitchen sink, the dishwater draining in a clockwise whirlpool of soapy water, the dishes drying in the rack. Castle was doing something in the bedroom, she didn't know what, and she was too tired to find out. She crossed to her living room, a tepid cup of tea nestled in her hands and plopped on the sofa, a long exhausted sigh launched from deep in her lungs. She put her feet up on the coffee table, edging a book out of the way.

_100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra_

Shit.

She was so tired, she just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. She'd spent all afternoon and most of the evening pouring over the case, lifting every rock, looking in every corner, trying to find something, anything, that would give her a tangible lead and a rise over the Feds. But, she'd found nothing, not a single thing that would help her solve this case.

It was like the guy didn't _exist. _

And, Castle wasn't helping with his wild theories that maybe the guy _didn't _exist, maybe he was a demon or a ghost or an extra-terrestrial, or a _zombie _(which was one of Castle's favorite theories, that and CIA), and Kate had finally threatened to toss him out on his ear if he insisted on throwing out insane hypotheses.

And now, as she picked up the book, he was going to want sex, and she just wasn't in the _mood_. She opened the book and thumbed through the pages, landing on the one they were supposed to do tonight. The Splitting Bamboo.

"Kate."

She looked up, Castle was standing just outside the bedroom door, his sleeves rolled up, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

He pointed at the doorway, raising his eyebrows, "Do you want to come to the bedroom?"

"Castle, I…" she looked down at the book.

He crossed the room and stood in front of her. Then he reached down and took the book from her hands, closed it, and set it on the coffee table. He shook his head, holding out his hand for her to take. "Not tonight, Kate."

She slipped her hand in his and allowed herself to be towed to the bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway, her jaw dropping.

She loved this man. She loved this man so much.

He'd set up a massage table in the middle of the room, candles were sprinkled everywhere casting shadows across the painted walls and varied furniture, bathing the table in a soft yellow glow, seashore sounds rising from the iDock housed on her dresser.

"Tonight, I'm taking care of _you._ Kate. You worked too hard today, and I know you, I know you're going to work too hard tomorrow and the next day, too, until we catch this killer." He eased her sweater from her shoulders, folding it across his forearm, then gently unbuttoned her shirt, "…so tonight is just for you. No killers, no cops, no feds, no Kama Sutra." He carefully draped her sweater and shirt across the bed and pointed at her jeans. "Take them off, and then lay down, face up, 'kay?"

She toed off her shoes and reached for the button of her jeans, gracing him with the most grateful relieved smile that had ever adorned her lips, her eyes misty, a lump rising in her throat at this unexpected thoughtfulness from him. Why did she always underestimate him?

"'Kay."

* * *

**A**n hour and a half later while Kate was feeling like a limp noodle and Castle was rubbing the remnants of massage oil from his hands, the phone chimed.

They both groaned.

"I don't suppose there is any way you can ignore that?" He asked, worry lines dotting his forehead.

"No," she answered, reaching for the phone.

"Didn't think so."

Castle blew out the candles around the room as Kate mainly listened to whoever it was on the other line. When she finally ended the call, she turned to look at him, her bathrobe hugging every curve of her body in vivid and unexpected ways. She tucked her caramel colored hair behind one ear and cocked her head. "That was Ryan. We have good news and bad news."

"Give me the bad news," he instructed, tapping his fist against the massage table.

"The Feds have, predictably, swooped in,"

Castle nodded, jutting his chin towards her. "And, the good?"

Kate scratched the tip of her nose. "The lead investigator?"

He nodded, his expression saying, _Yeah? Go on._

"It's Jordan Shaw."

**A/N: Sorry guys, but she was just really tired. :-) If you want to see what this position would have looked like, you can do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I'd be happy to share the link with you. You could also follow me on Twitter (krdaniels)**


	14. The Curled Angel

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Fourteen: The Curled Angel**

**A/N: Make sure to brush your teeth after this one, it's full of sugar. Sorry, but I was in a sentimental mood. :-) Thanks to Kristy and all of my Twitter peeps who keep me going. You guys are awesome! **

* * *

**S**he awoke with a start, the remnants of a disturbing dream still teasing the faded edges of her mind, taunting her, reminding her that she was, and always would be, a motherless daughter.

The grief that had become such an integrated part of who she was, of who she had been since she was nineteen years old, was something she hadn't necessarily minded carrying around. It was her duty, her responsibility as her mother's daughter to bear it, accept it, honor it.

But on nights like tonight when she'd had to inform yet _another_ daughter that she was now motherless, it haunted her thoughts, her heart, and she desperately wished she could give it back; abdicate any responsibility for it, plead and bargain and cajole with whatever power in the universe that would allow her to blink her eyes and transport her into a reality where her mother had never been killed, her father had never spiraled into alcoholism, and she had never spent so many years of her life running away from the awesome ability to love with fear, to live with abandon.

They'd identified Jane Doe number three, a mother of two, and in so doing had broken the case wide open. But they'd also broken the hearts of the victim's two college age children. And, while Kate was good at that part, talking to the families of victims, breaking the horrible news to them with a compassion and understanding that can only come from one who's been on that end of the story, it always tugged at her a little, took a piece out of her, and it usually took a day or two for her to recover from it.

Today had proven to be no different, and Castle had been so good about it, knowing what it did to her, how it consumed her. So, he'd taken her back to his place, made her dinner and then afterwards had set her up in front of the TV with an episode of Nebula-9 and a mug of steaming homemade cocoa. He'd even skipped his usual snide remarks about her favorite Sci-Fi show, even though she could tell it was a struggle for him.

And, she loved him for it.

He'd taken care of the dishes, packing up and putting away the leftovers so when Alexis came to do laundry, she'd have something to eat, he even wrote her name on a slip of paper and attached it to the plastic containers.

And, while she sat curled like an indolent cat in the overstuffed chair, a hand knit throw draped over her knees, the cocoa sliding down her throat, spreading it's warmth across her chest and down her belly, she watched her show as if she were seeing it for the first time, as only a true fan _could_.

Castle settled himself in front of the computer and, like a puppeteer with his marionette, breathed life into Nikki Heat and Jameson Rooke; he was trying to figure out a way to salvage the love scene he'd already written.

She could tell that he'd wanted her nearby, but that he also wanted to respect her need for space as she tried to unwind from the case; something that had often been a solitary activity for her. She loved that he knew that about her. Loved that she didn't have to ask for it, or tell him, or feel guilty about it. He just _knew._

And now, as the moonlight flooded in through the window like a spotlight on a darkened stage - her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at him, his face all scrunched up against the pillow, his breathing deep, heavy, measured, his eyes darting back and forth beneath their lids - she instantly felt better, more settled, calm. And the dream faded, retreating into the dusty corners of her mind.

She lay back down, facing him, her knees curled up, her body in the fetal position. He looked so good, so cute, so angelic, which was both _wrong_ and ironic, and she smiled at him.

She reached out, bridging the space between them, and with one tentative finger swiped at an errant lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead, whispering, "_I love you, Richard Castle." _

He stirred, and she froze. She didn't want to wake him. So, she pulled her hand back and rolled over, her back to his front. Tucking both hands beneath her pillow and closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to sleep.

But no sooner had her eyes fluttered shut than she felt him, heard his breathing change, felt the mattress dip behind her as he shifted position, and then felt his hand gently slide up her bare thigh, tripping on the hem of her shorts, roaming over her hips, the dip of her waist, his fingertips just barely brushing the side of her cheek before gently, slowly, moving her chestnut hair away from her neck.

She held her breath. Waiting, knowing, _wanting, _and then his lips were on her, a feather touch on the nape of her neck, soft and temperate, tenderly tripping along her skin, his breath warm on her cool flesh.

He spoke not a word, not a single syllable, but his mouth, his lips and tongue and teeth, sang a reprise as he traveled her jawline, her neck, her shoulder, and she pressed her body back and against him, a familiar, and welcome, stirring emerging from between her legs.

And, from between his.

She moaned as his lips pressed upon her shoulder, his teeth gently nipping at her skin, suddenly inflaming her, the hot tip of his tongue inflaming her even more as it left a wet trail along the column of her throat. She turned, her mouth meeting his in a deep, longing kiss.

She whimpered, his hand had inched its way below her t-shirt, exploring the warm flesh of her pale stomach, flattening, kneading, his palm molding itself over one breast. She was amazed by how quickly her body had shifted, responded - just the sound of his breath against her ear, his hardened arousal pushing against her back, his fingers as they pinched her nipple, elongating it, coaxing it - had transcended her pain, her grief, her fears, as if _he_ was the balm, the salve that would heal her.

Her body had become a writhing erotic playground and he knew _just_ what to do to send her spiraling into nirvana. He had a unique ability to transcend the mechanics of his body, of _hers_, so that they could thoroughly enjoy the rich textures of each other. They both knew, and this was what made them such compatible lovers, that sex had to be mixed with emotion, hunger, desire, lust, whims, impulses, and the _deepness_ of their relationship, their feelings and love for each other, in order for it to be transformative.

Which, it always was with him.

Every. Single. Time.

She moaned again, her lips a gentle press against his stubbly chin, her hand covering his as it molded and kneaded the soft rise of flesh at her breast; the throbbing between her legs becoming almost painful.

"Kate," he whispered. "Do you...?"

She searched his eyes, loving him for seeking permission, tonight of all nights, when he knew she was still recovering from the heart-wrenching duties of her job, knew that when she was like this she usually just wanted to be left alone, and she smiled, her fingers scraping the stubble of his chin. "Yes, Castle. I want you."

She used her tongue to part his lips, slipping into the warm cavern of his mouth, meeting his, dancing, weaving. He tasted like vanilla and coffee, and she moaned a third time, rocking her hips backwards against his firm erection and then hooking her fingers over the hem of her shorts, the waistband of her underwear, and tugging them down. He helped her as she lifted her hip off the bed, and he slipped the garments down her legs, the cotton fabric tickling the bottom of her feet as he liberated them from her body, tossing them to the floor.

He quickly wiggled out of his boxers and t-shirt, and when she turned to lay on her back, he stopped her, murmuring into her ear that he wanted her to stay where she was. "Bring your knees, up, Kate," he instructed, his voice a hoarse whisper.

He molded his front to her back, like spoons in a drawer, and slowly, _excruciatingly_ slowly, loped his hand up the length of her body, following the gentle curves and harsh lines of her folded legs, the slope of her hip, her waist, the ladder of her ribcage, massaging her breast, his fingertips a feather on her throat, her chin, her lips, and she took his finger into her mouth, sucking and teasing it, nipping at its tip as he extracted it and then used its wetness to tease her areola, rewarded by her nipple's immediate rise and transformation into the delicious shape of a gumdrop. He leaned over and took it into his mouth, sucking and licking, the taste of her salty flesh coursing his tongue, and he moaned as she raked her fingers through his hair, leaving a Zen-garden-like path of parallel lines in their wake.

He massaged the soft rise of her ass, dipping his fingers between her legs, feeling her wetness, her _wanting._ He positioned himself so he could slip inside of her, she lifted her leg slightly, giving him access, and without words, without breath or thought or sound, he entered her.

Even with his body curled around hers, draping her with his warmth, the hardness of muscle, the soft pouch at his abdomen, she felt vulnerable and open, but completely safe at the same time. She took his hand and placed it at her breast, covering it with her own as he squeezed and flexed against her. She closed her eyes, savoring the full feeling of him as he slowly moved in and out of her. This feeling of being seduced from behind, of feeling the tickle of his chest hair against her back, his pubic hair against her ass, it was exhilarating and new, and her flesh was a sea of goose-bumps as she closed her eyes, losing herself in his touch and breath, the rise of him inside of her.

"I love you, Kate," he whispered against her ear. "I love you so much, I love you so much." It was a litany, a prayer, a sacred song and she felt tears build up behind her tired eyelids as she struggled to reply. What came out was a tangled mess of garbled words and choked sobs, but he knew what she'd meant, and so he said it again, he said it for her. "I love you so much."

And, he slowly, languidly, moved in and out of her, taking his time, his body nestled against her, his flesh cemented to hers, only his pelvis having intermittent contact. And with each thrust of _him_ against _her_, he whispered into her ear over and over, _I love you, I love you, I love you._

And, it was almost unbearable.

But his words were like an ointment on a hardened painful scab, and she felt it loosening, healing, peeling off to reveal the renewed and tender healing flesh beneath, pink and new and sensitive to his touch.

Almost too sensitive, and she worried she might break apart into a million jagged pieces as the familiar waves of pleasure radiated from between her legs, rising throughout her body, coursing through her veins, and she couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks as he expertly coaxed the orgasm from her, using his fingers against her clit as he increased his pace inside of her.

She felt herself rise and peal, like church bells on Sunday, spiraling upward, outward, shining and coasting as the excruciating shards of the orgasm splintered throughout her. She cried out, his name coasting past her tongue, filling the quiet spaces around them, and he continued his litany..._I love you, I love you, I love you._

She wanted him to stop, her heart was swollen and bursting and she didn't know how much she could bear, but she couldn't ask, wouldn't ask. Because she loved him, she loved him, too. And being with him meant accepting him, accepting this gift of him, his love, his devotion, what had always been there, had been there from the beginning, but she'd been too afraid, to hard, to stubborn to see. And so, she listened to him as he chanted in her ear, she listened, and she loved him.

She loved him so much.

He moved faster against her, his body growing rigid, his grasp around her waist tighter and harder, and she knew he was close, very, very close.

And, she finally found her words.

"Castle. I love you, I love you, I love you so much," she offered, her voice hoarse, raspy, whispered, but echoing around them, lingering above them like a talisman against the darker agents of the world.

And then he came, thrusting into her, emptying himself, her name bouncing from the walls as he cried out. She gripped him with pliant inner muscles, urging every bit of pleasure from him, cajoling, pleading, teasing him until he couldn't bear it any longer and then he gently pulled out of her, a whimper ghosting his lips.

She could feel him behind her, soft and warm, wet from being inside of her, and She turned around, stretching her legs straight in front of her, pulling off the t-shirt that was still inexplicably bunched up around her neck (how had she kept it _on_ this whole time?), before rolling onto her other side and then climbing on top of him. She lay her ear over his heart, listening to it pound beneath her, her hair fanned out across the broad expanse of his bare chest. She curled her toes around his feet, wanting to drape herself as completely over him as she possibly could.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and scratched lazy circle-eights against the warm, soft skin of her back, his fingers strumming up and down the spindles of her spine. An _I love you_ tumbled from his lips as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I love you, too."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled and shining. He gathered the sheet between his toes and inched it up their bodies until he could reach it with his hands, and then covered them, returning his arms to tightly hold her as she lay on top of him.

She mumbled, "Am I too heavy? Want me to move?"

"You're a feather. You're an angel. I like you there. Stay," he whispered, kissing the top of her head again.

She settled in, feeling cocooned, safe, loved, _healed._ And tomorrow, she would go into work, refreshed, and she would do her _job._

And, he would still be there. With her.

Loving her.

* * *

**K**ate lifted the warm mug to her lips and savored the long sip of hot coffee, the bitter flavor bursting over her tongue, the warmth sliding down her throat and spreading throughout her chest like a warm blanket. She tightened the sash of her bathrobe (the one she kept at his place now), and then opened the book to page fourteen.

She gasped.

"What?" Castle asked, looking up at her from his place at the dining room table. He was in _his_ bathrobe, reading the morning newspaper.

She picked up the book from the kitchen counter and turned towards him, the volume heavy and open in her hands. "Did you know?"

"Know, what?"

She crossed to the dining room and set the book in front of him, "Did you know that was the position for yesterday?"

He shook his head, "I didn't have time to look, why?"

She pointed at the picture, "Look."

He looked, then he looked back up at her, a coy smile gracing his lips.

She was pointing at the title of position fourteen.

_The Curled Angel. _

"You seriously didn't know?" She asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing.

He held up his hands as if under arrest, "No, I didn't."

She looked down at the picture again, scratching the tip of her nose. "Weird."

He chuckled. "Yeah."

She flipped the page, and gasped again staring at the photo of the backwards bending man. She looked up at him and laughed. "Did you see position fifteen?"

"Yes," he answered, looking wounded. "Why are you laughing?"

She covered her mouth, hiding a gentle smile, gently shaking her head back and forth, her curls bouncing against her shoulders. "Oh, no reason."

"You think I can't do it, don't you?"

She closed the book and picked up her mug, reaching for the Sports page, "I didn't say that."

"You do! You think I can't do it. Just say it."

"Castle. It's. It's a very _bendy_ position!"

He gazed at her, slack-jawed, "I can do it, Beckett. Come on." He slammed the newspaper down and stood up. "Right now. Right here," he pointed at the floor. "Let's do it."

"Castle," Kate scolded.

"Beckett!" he scolded back.

She stared at him.

"Get on the floor!"


	15. The Bridge

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Fifteen: The Bridge**

"C'mon, Beckett. I can _do_ this."

She rolled her eyes, gripping the mug of coffee with one hand, while tucking her long chestnut hair behind her ear with the other. "Castle, we have to get to work."

He quickly side-glanced at the amber glowing digits on the microwave. "We have time."

She inched closer to him, sincerity sweeping her features and placed one palm on his chest. She searched his eyes, realizing that he was being serious. "Castle. You don't have to prove anything to me."

He cocked his head, his eyebrows raised defiantly. "Ah, evidently I do!" He argued, raising both arms and then dropping them at his sides.

She fingered the edges of his bathrobe. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"Kate. I'm not going to get hurt. Give me a little more credit."

He wasn't going to budge.

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes dancing with sudden amusement. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Okay. Fine."

He smiled, a broad toothy grin, looking positively like a boy about to get a new bike. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. Let's go. Show me what ya got."

He jumped, grabbed her hand and towed her to his bedroom.

He spun around in the middle of the room, scanning the floor plan for the best spot, sliding furniture out of the way. Then he looked at her, the same boyish grin plastered on his face.

He didn't move.

"What?" she laughed.

"Now I'm all nervous."

She sauntered up to him, setting her mug on the dresser on her way, and ran one finger over his lips. "You don't have to be nervous, Castle," she teased, slipping one hand between the folds of his bathrobe.

"Oh. Oooh, Kate. Yeah, I. Ah, I am."

She looked around the room, as though searching for something. Then she muttered under her breath, "Damn."

He frowned, "What?"

She turned back to him, her eyes swimming with mischief. "I forgot my helmet."

He leaned back. "Oh, ha ha, very funny." But, he couldn't help but gaze at the tiny scar on her lip, and he winced, remembering.

She kissed him, quickly, softly, forgivingly. "I was just teasing, Castle," she sing-songed. "It could have happened to anyone."

He ran one hand through his hair, pouting. "That was a _really_ _hard_ position, Beckett. And you," he waved his hand up and down in front of her, "You weigh like _two pounds_."

She slinked closer, sliding one leg between his, running the arch of her bare foot up the inside of his calf. "I _know," _she offered sympathetically, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Poor baby." She kissed him again. "However will you recover from that?"

He stumbled backwards, "Okay," he started, "I see what you're doing. Very funny."

She moved closer, her eyes falling to his lips, her hands reaching for the knot on his bathrobe sash. "What am I doing?" She slipped one end of the sash through the knot.

He continued walking backwards, his hands at his sides, "Oh. You. Kate. Like. You know. You know what you're doing."

She worked the knot loose and his bathrobe fell open. "And, why, exactly are you resisting me?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Wasn't this _your_ idea?"

He stopped, his mouth slamming shut with an audible pop of his teeth and he looked over her head. "Oh. Right."

He let her disrobe him, his arousal already evident, and she slipped out of her own bathrobe. He had to take a breath, still, even now, after all of the times he'd seen her naked; it still took his breath away.

A shiver ran down his spine as she slinked closer, one hand on his chest, the other curling around him _there_, and he exhaled very slowly. She brushed her lips over his, not really kissing him, but making contact, her tongue darting out to briefly lick the corner of his mouth. He shuddered again and she moaned, moving her lips to his ear, her tongue tracing its shell, and then whispering, "I think you're ready, Castle." She playfully tugged at him.

He flinched. "Oooh, yeah, Um, Let's, let's get on the floor," he suggested, moving her back towards the center of the room. He got onto his knees in front of her, stopping to enjoy the _spectacular_ view, his hands tripping up and down her thighs, around to her backside, he pressed a kiss against her naval, groaning, before looking up at her. "So, my instructor said the easiest way to get into…"

"Wait," she interrupted, "…your _instructor?"_

He sat on his haunches as she stood before him in all of her naked glory, looking positively like a Greek goddess. "Shit," he snapped his fingers. "I forgot I hadn't told you." He bit his thumbnail. He dared a glance back up at her and knew there would be nothing happening here until he'd explained. "I've been seeing a yoga instructor, to, you know, help with the more _challenging _positions? You know," he pointed at her lip, "…after the unfortunate Ape incident?" He bit his forefinger, crisscrossing lines appearing on his forehead as he waited for her response.

She looked at him blankly for a minute, digesting this bit of information, and then burst into gales of raucous laughter. "I'm sorry…" she shook her head, holding her stomach, "I'm sorry. Oh, Castle. God," she got on her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck, nuzzling his nose. "…you are _adorable_!"

He breathed a sigh of relief, his hands slipping around her waist. "I am?"

She nipped at his upper lip, "Yes, you are."

And, that was all it took.

He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and slid his tongue into her mouth. The kiss was hard, but his lips were soft, and she moaned against his mouth, sending another round of shivers in a race down his spine as he sipped her soft emanations.

He tucked her hair behind her ears before pulling away, smiling at her, one eyebrow raised, his hands framing her face. "Ready?" he croaked.

"Ready," she whispered, her face shining, flecks of gold dancing playfully in the hazel iris of her eyes, reflected by the beam of sunlight streaming in through the window.

He planted both hands beneath his shoulders, both feet against the floor, hip width apart, and raised himself up with ease, looking like a human table, with, er, a large phallic shaped pillar candle in the center of it.

"Wow," Kate breathed, admiring his flexibility.

He cocked his head to look at her, "Wait," he warned, and then arched his back in an impressive, precise, bridge position. "Okay. Now get on!"

She was surprised by how turned on she was. Even though he was being so mechanical, it was _sexy._ And, she felt the familiar rise of pleasure radiate from between her legs. She bit her bottom lip and moved towards him, climbing on like a cowgirl on a Stallion. She mapped her hands up the broad span of his chest, admiring his straining muscles, and then she reached between her legs, curling her fingers around him, slowly, carefully, guiding him into her.

It was a good thing she was tall, because even on her tiptoes, he'd had to bear some of her weight. As soon as he felt her surround him, gripping him tightly with pliant muscles, he began gradually moving his pelvis up and down, moving in and out of her at a metronomic pace. She moved with him, her hips gyrating forward as her hands explored his abdomen, the ladder of his ribcage, her fingers tickling and teasing his erect nipples.

She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, and she was glorious, stunning, her body glistening in the patch of sunlight that crossed her torso like the silken sash worn by a beauty queen.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing it, actually holding the position, and he grinned, even as he grimaced with the effort of it, knowing that she was impressed. He watched her as she rode him, as she rode him _hard, _her hands wandering over his body, over _hers_. He shuddered as she grabbed her breasts with both hands, pinching her nipples, her mouth open and panting, her hips moving against him, perfectly timed, perfectly choreographed, as though they'd done this every day of their lives.

As she moved her hand to the place where they were joined, no doubt to coax her own orgasm, he had to close his eyes and concentrate.

Or, they might both be landing in a heap on the floor.

He thrust in and out, feeling her inner muscles contracting against him, urging, coaxing, pleading, toying with him. They moved faster, higher, harder, and he could see a thin sheen of sweat cover her body, her flushed skin turning pink, the color rising over her chest, climbing up her neck, swelling her lips. Her mouth curved into an O and he knew she was close. He arched higher, his head falling back, quickening his pace, feeling dizzy from all of the blood rushing to his head.

And then, suddenly, she came.

Her breaths quick, loud, furious, her hands kneading into the sinewy muscles of his abdomen, she pulsed and vibrated above him. But he didn't have time, didn't have time to massage her orgasm because his own was coming, too, and he exploded, spilling inside of her, his moans and cries joining hers in a chorus of sheer ecstasy.

She coasted above him, her rise and fall a gradual descending from the climax that had claimed them both, and he let her set the pace, even as he was softening inside of her. Finally, with gentle fingers, she guided him out, and then patted his chest, indicating he should lower himself to the floor, which he did.

She stretched out on top of him, her lips curling around one of his nipples, her tongue lazily circling it, before her lips traveled the column of his throat, his stubbly chin, his lips, swollen and numb, but sensitive enough to feel the tingle of her tongue as it teased its way around his mouth.

His heart continued to slam against his ribcage, but his breathing was returning to normal; and he wrapped his arms around her, the sweat and scents of their bodies mixing, joining, a colorful vibrant coming together that filled them both with a satisfaction, a gratitude, that they were _this_ compatible.

She lay on top of him, silently, her own breathing finally returning to normal, and tucked her hands beneath his shoulders, her lips skimming his, peppering him with tiny little kisses.

"Wow, Castle. I…" she started.

He grinned. "See? I told you I could do it."

"Mmmm," she kissed the tip of his nose, moving her knees to straddle him. "You did. And, you _did _it_._" She raised herself up. "I was wrong to worry."

He grinned, accepting her hand as she helped him up off the floor, "Damn right you were."

* * *

**K**ate had showered first, resisting the temptation for them to shower together, since now they really _were_ running late, and so Castle needed to hurry if they were going to ride to the precinct together.

After washing and rinsing his hair, he grabbed the bar of soap from the ledge on the shower stall, but it shot out of his hands like a slippery fish. He bent over to pick it up and as he raised himself up, heard a loud _snap._

And then he felt it. A pain like nothing he'd ever experienced, a pain so agonizing he thought he might pass out.

And, he couldn't stand up.

_Fuck!_

* * *

**S**he was showered, dressed, fed, and ready to go, and Castle was still primping in the bathroom. She glanced at her watch, annoyed, and knocked on the door. "Castle! C'mon. We're _really_ late!"

She heard him grunting and was about to open the door when he called back. "You go ahead, Kate. I just remembered, I have a meeting this morning at Black Pawn."

She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "You _just_ remembered?"

"I'm sorry!" He apologized, his voice muffled by the door. "It completely slipped my mind. I'll catch up with you later."

She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, frowning. "Well, alright. But, call me later, kay?"

"Will do," he replied.

* * *

**W**hen he knew she'd gone, he picked up his cell phone from where it had fallen on the floor following his unsuccessful attempt to stand up, and brought up his contacts list. Punching the button, he put the phone to his ear, impatiently tapping the back of it with his finger as he waited for the party on the other end to pick up.

Finally, a curt, 'lo' floated into his waiting ear.

He gritted his teeth, "I need your help. Can you come to my loft?"


	16. The Clip

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Sixteen: The Clip**

Martha was in the kitchen, nursing a mild hangover, pouring herself a steaming mug of coffee, when the doorbell buzzed. She checked her bathrobe, pulling the sash tighter, making sure none of her bits were showing, before click-clacking her way to the front door, her fuzzy hard-soled slippers echoing from the high ceiling of the loft. Fortunately, she had already done her hair and makeup, so she wasn't worried about not being presentable to whoever was buzzing their way into her world right now.

She opened the door with a _whoosh_, surprised by the visitor on the other side.

"Detective Esposito!" she gushed.

Esposito looked surprised, a frown growing on his face. "Mrs. R."

"Detective. What? Oh, my. Is Richard alright?" Her hand flew to her mouth, worry lines crisscrossing her forehead.

His eyebrows shot up, "I, um, I don't know. He called me, asked me to come over." He looked past her and into the apartment. "He's not here?"

She opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come in. "No, I don't think so. I assumed he and Kate left hours ago."

"Well, what the-?" He looked annoyed and was about to turn and leave when his phone chimed, alerting him to a text message.

_I'm in the bathroom. Do NOT let my mother in here._

Espo frowned again, vertical grooves forming between his eyes. He held the cell phone up, "He's in the bathroom."

Martha looked at him, her mouth open, her eyes blinking. "Well, what on earth is going on?" She hustled towards the bedroom door, Esposito on her heels.

"Richard!" She called towards the closed bathroom door. "Richard, darling. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, mother." His disembodied voice replied through the door. "Nothing, but could you please ask Espo to come in here?"

"Richard! I am your mother! You've got nothing going on that I haven't already seen."

"Mother. _Please_?"

Martha threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes, exasperated.

Esposito put one hand on the doorknob. "Why don't I just," he pointed at the door, "…go in and see what's wrong." He inched the door open. "I'll let you know if it's anything serious."

Resignedly, Martha nodded, shooing him through the door with both hands and then turning in a huff to float out of the room, her multi-colored bathrobe billowing behind her.

Esposito opened the door and peered inside, stepping gingerly into the expansive bathroom. Peering around the life-sized Baba Fet, he stopped in his tracks. "Dude!"

Castle was flat on his back against the cold tile, naked, a towel draped across his middle, his legs, bent at the knee, flung over the side of the bathtub. Esposito stepped closer, "Bro, what happened, you fall..?" He held out his hand, shielding his eyes. "Adjust your towel, man, I can see your junk."

Castle flinched. "Ooh, sorry." He quickly moved the towel.

Esposito inched closer, getting down on his haunches so Castle didn't have to crane his neck. "What happened? You fall out of the tub?"

"No," Castle sighed, turning his head towards the detective. "I _wish_."

"Then..?"

"I bent over to pick up some soap, and something…snapped."

Esposito raised an eyebrow.

"In my back."

"Soap?"

"Yeah, soap. Look I need you to help me get up. I can't move."

"Not until you tell me what really happened."

"Espo! I told you. I bent over to pick up some soap. It happens."

"No, no. It doesn't happen, Bro. There's something you aren't telling me. Come on, what gives."

Castle sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Fine," he pointed his finger at the detective. "But, this had better not get back to me."

Espo raised two fingers, "Scouts honor."

"I kind of, we were, Beckett…" he scrubbed his beard. "I overdid it."

Esposito chuckled. "That book, right?"

Panic skittered across his face as quickly as a mouse being chased by a cat. "What?"

"The book? That sex book you bought Beckett?"

"How? What? How do you know about _that_?"

"Lanie told me."

"Lanie?"

"Women _talk_ to each other, Bro. Don't you know that?"

Castle held a fist to his temple, stared at the ceiling, and hissed, "_Beckett!_"

Esposito chuckled.

"It's not funny, Javi. I can't _move!"_

Esposito held out a hand, "Okay, I'm sorry. Let me help you up."

"I don't think. Wait. Ok. Let me see if I can move my legs," Castle suggested, wincing with pain as he pulled his knees towards his chest.

"Dude!" Esposito complained again, turning away. "The towel."

Castle looked up at him, pink-faced. "Would you just deal with it?" he grunted, "The towel is the least of my concerns right now! Here," he held out his hands, having turned ninety degrees, his feet now flat on the floor. "...grab my hands."

Esposito stood in front of Castle, grabbing both of his hands, looking anywhere but _down_.

"Okay, on three." Castle instructed. "One," he took a bracing breath. "Two," closed his eyes. "Three!"

Esposito pulled as hard as he could and Castle shot up from the floor, a long, agonizing, _earsplitting_ cry echoing around the room, pinging from the tiled walls, as the pain ripped through his upper body. One hand flew to his lower back, an automatic response to the spasms rippling through his back muscles, the other was still holding on to Esposito.

The towel was on the floor.

Which was exactly when Martha came running into the room, her eyes wide, her expression worried. "Darling! What in the world-?" She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her naked son and his friend, holding hands in the middle of the bathroom.

"Richard!"

"Mother!" Castle cried, covering himself with his hands. "Jeez, mother. Please?"

"Oh, darling. It's nothing I haven't seen before." She waved her hand in the air.

Esposito grinned. "Dude, you let your mother see you naked?"

Castle glared at Esposito. "No," he focused on his mother, "Mother, turn around. Now. Please?"

"Fine, fine, darling. But you're being a little dramatic don't you think?"

"Espo, hand me a towel," Castle barked.

"Oh, now you're worried about the towel, a minute ago..."

"The towel!" Castle yelled.

"Okay, okay," Esposito acquiesced. "No reason to get testy," he laughed at his own pun.

Castle snatched the towel from the detective's outstretched hand and wrapped it around his middle, groaning as he did. "I'm so glad you both find my pain amusing." He hobbled, slightly bent over, towards the bedroom. "But, I am in serious pain here!"

"Oh, Richard. I'm sorry, what can I do?"

"You can go in the other room while Espo helps me get dressed."

"Wait, what?" Esposito protested. "Bro, I am not..."

Castle glared at him, an _I'm not fucking around_ expression on his normally quite jovial face.

"Okay, fine. But I get the Ferrari for a week." He pointed towards the window, as thought the Ferrari were parked on the street below.

"Whatever!" Castle spat through gritted teeth. "My boxers are in the top drawer, there." He pointed to the dresser, "My jeans are in the closet, and just grab the first t-shirt you find." As he spoke, he bent further and further down as though being drawn to the floor by some inexplicable gravitational force, the pain in his back getting exponentially worse.

"Oh, Richard. Oh, darling, you look horrible. I think we should take you to the Emergency Room. Why don't we call Kate?" Martha offered, approaching her son.

"No. Mother. Thank you, I'll be fine." He used the back of his hand to wipe away the beads of perspiration that were dotting his face. "But, please, I'd be so much more comfortable if you just waited in the other room while I got dressed?"

She was unmoved, her maternal instincts telling her to stay where she was.

"I got this Mrs. R," Esposito offered. "We'll just be a minute." He balanced a pair of boxers and a T-shirt in his hands.

She exhaled. "Alright, very well. I'll be right outside. Holler if you need me."

With Martha gone, Esposito handed Castle the boxers. Castle just looked at him, shaking his head.

"No."

"Yes."

"Dude."

"Espo, I can't _bend_ _over_!"

Esposito gestured at Castle's stooped form. "You're already bent over, man!"

"I mean any _more_, I can't bend over any _more_!"

Esposito grimaced. "Okay, fine. But make this fast!" He stood in front of Castle and dropped the boxers to the ground, opening the leg holes so Castle could step into them. Then he walked over to the dresser to grab the T-shirt, while Castle dropped the towel onto the bed and stepped into the boxers, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Esposito spun around just as Castle was wiggling his feet through the leg holes. "Whoa. Castle, man, you have got the perkiest butt I've ever seen on a white guy!" he joked, a sideways grin on his face as he approached Castle from behind.

From the other side of the door, Martha chimed in. "He gets that from me, you know! Isn't it just adorable?"

Castle's head dropped, bobbing against his chest. "And, my humiliation is now complete."

Esposito chuckled, sliding the boxers up Castle's legs from behind, his face twisted far to the right, avoiding any unwanted contact with Castle's _perky_ butt, until the writer could reach the waistband of the cotton shorts and pull them the rest of the way up by himself.

Once into his jeans and T-shirt, Castle tried to make his way out of the bedroom, but the pain was excruciating, and he decided to lie down, instead. As soon as Esposito opened the bedroom door, Martha came hurrying in.

"Here's an ice pack, darling. I still think we should take you to the Emergency Room." She helped him turn to the side so she could situate the ice pack on his back, then helped him roll back over. She turned to Esposito, "You could take him, Detective, couldn't you? Turn on that gumdrop of yours?"

"Gumball," he corrected. "Sure, I can drop you off." He frowned, "You don't look good, bro. I think you're mom's right. You probably _broke_ something."

"How did this even happen?" Martha asked.

Esposito smirked. "Yeah, how _did_ it happen, again?"

Castle groaned, rubbing his forehead. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going to the ER."

"Well, then at least let me call Kate."

"No!" Castle barked. "No, I don't want to bother her, she's working on a big case." He folded his hands behind his head, propping it up to look at them. "I'll text her in a minute."

"Speaking of big case," Esposito pointed at his watch, "...I'd better get back."

"Thanks, Javi. And, remember..." Castle pointed at him, his face a mask of warning. "...Not a word to anyone."

Espo nodded, backing out of the room. "Lips are sealed, Bro." He glanced at Martha. "Mrs. R., good luck. I'll see myself out."

"Oh, thank you, Detective!" Martha bowed, her hands folded as if in prayer. She spun around and looked at her son, her face a mixture of sympathy and concern. "Alright, Richard. Tell me what really happened, and what we're going to do about it!"

* * *

**K**ate hurried down the corridor, following the directions of the admitting nurse until she came to the long room where they said Castle was being seen. She walked by row after row of curtained hospital beds before she finally spotted Martha's red hair. She approached the bed, and reached out to touch Martha's elbow. The older woman spun around.

"Oh, Kate. Oh, Darling, I'm so glad you're here." Martha exclaimed, wrapping Kate in a hurried hug. "Richard is just _beside_ himself. It took me simply _forever_ to get him to agree to come here."

"Kate!" Castle bellowed. "Kate, you're here. Oh, good! Let's get this _par-tay _started!" He struggled to get up and Martha patted his shoulder, whispering at him to stay down.

Kate looked from Castle to Martha, "Martha, what happened?"

Martha shrugged, "I don't know. He won't tell me. Just that he hurt his back. They," she pointed at Castle, "...gave him something. Which, I assume you've already gathered."

Kate looked like a deer caught in headlights. "His-?" She combed her fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ears. "His _back_?"

"Yep!" Castle shouted, raising one finger. "Hurt my back trying to give you the _good lovin'!" _He confessed.

Loudly.

"Oh, God," Kate moaned, hiding her face behind her hands.

"What? Kate, what is he...?" And then dawning realization tap-danced across her eyes and she nodded, a knowing grin on her face. "The Kama Sutra?"

Kate nodded, groaning.

Martha patted her forearm. "Say no more, dear." Martha sympathized. "I'll leave you two alone." She pointed down the hall, her bracelets jangling like a wind chime. "I'll be in the family room."

"Thank you, Martha." Kate offered. She walked around to stand at the head of the bed, her fingers combing through his hair. "Oh, Castle. I told you we shouldn't have done that!"

He lifted one arm, clumsily caressed her cheek, a stupid smile on his face. "But we _did_ do the position." He argued, his eyes dancing around, trying to keep her in focus. "I should have just been more careful _afterwards._"

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Two trips to the hospital in less than three weeks?" She whispered. "I think maybe we should think about shelving that book-"

"No!" He cried, lowering his voice after she shushed him. "No, Kate. We just have to be more _care-_ful! That's all. Plus, I have gooooood drugs now. I could take on Position sixteen, Riiiiiight here!" He struggled to get up again.

She pushed him down, shushing him.

"Okay, Mr. Castle. I have your discharge..." The nurse stopped at the foot of the bed, eyeing Kate. She pointed her pen in Kate's direction. "Weren't you two? Didn't we treat your..?" She looked at the fading scar on Kate's lip.

Kate simply nodded, closing her eyes.

An almost imperceptible smile crept up the nurse's face as she handed Castle the clipboard. "Please sign here, Mr. Castle. These are your instructions for home. Please remember, no alcohol while you are taking the muscle relaxers. And, no driving, either."

"Roger that," Castle replied, scribbling something that resembled his signature on the bottom of the form.

The nurse raised up the bed and called for a wheelchair. An orderly in maroon scrubs waited patiently as Kate and the nurse helped Castle out of the bed. He plopped in the chair, and then slapped his lap. "C'mon Kate, get on. Let's go for a ride!"

Kate rolled her eyes, "I'm fine Castle. I think I'll walk."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"I'll go get Martha," Kate informed him, walking ahead. As she made her way down the bustling corridor, she passed by the social worker who had attempted an intervention when Kate was here getting her lip stitched up two weeks ago, concerned that perhaps Castle had hit her. She tried to avoid eye contact, but the woman had already seen her, approaching Kate with a wide smile on her face.

"Detective...Beckett, right?" The woman said, one eyebrow raised, her hand extended.

"That's right," Kate confirmed, stopping to shake the woman's hand. "You have an excellent memory."

"What brings you here today?" The social worker asked, giving Kate the once over, probably looking for signs of abuse.

"Um, my partner. He, ah..." She pointed at Castle who was waving stupidly at people as he passed them by in his wheelchair.

The social worker nodded, smiling. "Ah. I see." She turned to Kate, "Position fifteen?"

Kate nodded, cringing a little.

The social worker shook her head. "They really should post a warning on that book." She looked up and down the hallway, as though making sure no one was watching them, and then quickly pointed at a scar on her forehead, whispering, _"_Position fifty-seven." She chuckled. "Unless you're a circus performer, I'd skip it if I were you._"_

Kate grew wide-eyed, "Oh," she laughed. "Thanks! I'll take that under advisement."

The social worker patted her on the back, "Good luck, Detective," she chin nodded at Castle, who now had his fingers in the shape of a pair of handguns, shooting invisible bullets at people like he was John Wayne on a Wagon Train, _Pow, pow, gotcha! _

"It looks like you're going to need it."

**A/N: Y'all had to know there was no way he was going to come out of that one unscathed, right? Thanks again for all the love this story has received. I'm just so grateful for all of your comments and support! **

**An anon reviewer suggested that with all of this unprotected sex Kate was bound to get pregnant. I'd like to clarify two things: 1. They aren't having unprotected sex, as established in Ch. 9, Kate is on the pill, and 2. While I never say never, you can fairly safely assume I am unlikely to write a "Kate is pregnant" fic. Unless it actually happens on the show, at which point I guess I will have to deal with it. :-)**


	17. The Close Up

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Seventeen: The Close-Up**

"Hola, chica!" Esposito greeted, sliding up behind Lanie and slipping his hands around her waist.

She spun around in his arms, her gloved hands resting on this shoulders, "Hey," she nuzzled her nose against his as he burrowed against her. "What are you doing here?"

His fingertips followed the path of her spine, his lips skimming hers. "Beckett sent me." He mumbled against her mouth. "Said you had an envelope for her?"

"Mmmm, right." Lanie replied, kissing him softly, her pelvis rolling towards him, probably in response to the side-to-side gyrations of his hips. "I have it right here." She reached blindly at the desk behind her, spilling the contents of her in-basket onto the floor.

She didn't care.

They kissed; his tongue smoothly skirting her bottom lip before slipping into her mouth, exploring, curious and fast, flirting with the dangerous line of her teeth, weaving and ringing her tongue, before he nibbled at her lip, trapping it between his teeth, and then finally, reluctantly, gently, letting go.

Lanie moaned, her body quivering. "Javier Esposito. You _cannot_ just come in here and do_ that_ to me!"

Esposito chuckled, his lips traveling the column of her throat. He leaned back and looked at her, his dark brown eyes shining with mischief, a crooked grin on his face. "Do what?"

She bucked against his crotch, grinning as he moaned. "You _know_ what!"

"I thought you _liked_ it when I did that?"

His lips were on her again, sending shivers down her spine, and she closed her eyes, a gentle moan tumbling past her lips. "Mmmm, I do," she breathed, falling into his kiss. But then remembering where she was, she placed both hands firmly against his chest and pushed him away, wagging a finger at him. "But not at work."

He stumbled back, casting his eyes down and wiping his bottom lip with his forefinger. He looked back up at her, grinning like the devil. "Then how about tonight? Your place? We could try out that book you bought."

Her eyes grew wide. "How did you know I bought...?"

He laughed, "I didn't. But I do now."

She gave him a look, one of _those_ looks and walked around to her desk, snapping off her gloves as she went. She opened the middle drawer and pulled out a _Barnes and Noble _bag. "I picked it up this morning on my way in," she pulled out the large coffee-table styled book and opened it, flipping through the pages. "Kate warned me there are a few positions we should probably skip." She eyed Javi up and down, making it obvious she was inspecting his assets. "But, I think you might be just a _little_ more flexible than Castle."

Esposito flexed a bicep, "Stronger, too."

Lanie closed her eyes and shook her head.

"What-?" Espo looked wounded.

"Castle can take you, baby."

"What-?" Espo repeated. "He. What? No he can't!"

She continued nodding, offering him a sympathetic smile. "Oh, yes. Yes, he can."

"What? Seriously? You think Castle could take me?"

"I do," Lanie calmly replied.

Esposito rolled up his sleeves. "Oh, yeah? Well, I'll prove it to you." His face was turning crimson, his lips pursed into a hard line, if he'd been a cartoon, steam would have been coming out of his ears. "Where is he? I'll fight him. Right now."

Lanie sidled up to him, the book in one hand, a gentle smile bowing her lips. She traced her fingertips over his bicep. "Baby, you got nothing to prove to me." She let her hand roam down the broad expanse of his chest, the flat, muscled, plane of his abdomen, her fingernails tripping over his belt buckle, before she gently cupped him, enjoying the gust of air that _whooshed_ from between his parted lips. She whispered into his ear, "There's only _one_ muscle of yours that concerns me, anyway."

He flinched, and then leaned into her, his hands finding her waist again. He chuckled, "Mmmm, and I've seen Castle in his birthday suit, so I happen to know first hand that my..."

She held one finger over his lips. "Stop talking right now, Javier," she warned.

"Right," he kissed her again, and then leaned back, his eyebrows raised. "So? Tonight? You. Me." He tapped the book. "...this?

She looked at him from the sides of her eyes and then opened the book to the last two pages. All 100 positions were thumbnailed. "Close your eyes and pick one, whichever one your finger lands on, I'll do."

His mouth dropped open, "Really?"

"Really," she replied, closing her eyes and nodding.

"Right on!" His finger poised over the open pages, he held one hand up to shield his eyes as Lanie balanced the book in the palms of her hands. He circled his finger like a whirly-gig and then landed on one of the thumbnails. "Bam!"

He opened his eyes and they both looked at the spot where his finger had just landed.

_The close-up._

Espo smiled, Lanie purred.

He started to back out of the room. "So, seven? Your place? I'll bring a bottle of wine?"

She nodded, closing the book and returning it to the _Barnes and Noble _bag. "Javi."

"What?"

She held up a thin manila envelope. "Beckett's lab report?"

"Ooh," he jumped, crossing over to her in three short steps. He kissed her on the cheek as he snatched it out of her hands. "Later, chica."

Lanie smiled, watching his fine, fine ass as he walked out of the room. "Later."


	18. The Double Decker

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Eighteen: The Double Decker**

"You're sure?" She asked, concern etched all over her face.

"I'm sure," he replied.

"I think you need to give it more time."

"I'm good, Kate. Strong. I can do this!"

She chewed the inside of her lip, holding the knife in mid-air, her eyes narrowed. "Castle, I don't want you hurting your back again."

"Kate, I can carry a lousy box of books down to your storage room," he answered.

"Yeah, but…."

"It's fine. Would you stop worrying?" He bent over to pick up the box.

She slammed the knife down on the cutting board, sending mushrooms and onions sailing off the counter and onto the floor. "Use your knees!" she barked.

He folded his legs, "I'm using my knees," he replied patiently. Lifting the box, he jostled it in his hands for a second before turning to look at her. "Beckett, if I can carry this box down to your storage room with no problems, then…" He raised an eyebrow, his meaning lingering in the air between them.

She made a face, picking up the errant mushrooms from the floor. "We'll _see_."

* * *

"**I** had no idea you could cook, Detective." Jordan Shaw stated, wiping the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin and settling back in her chair, wine glass in hand.

"Oh, there's a lot about Beckett that most people don't know," Castle replied, stabbing a mushroom with his fork and shoveling it into his mouth. "She's like an onion."

Jordan raised an eyebrow.

"Lot's of layers," he clarified between bites.

"I see."

Kate shot Castle a warning glance, standing up to gather the dishes. "My mom was a great cook. She taught me how to make a few select dishes." She took Castle's plate and he chased her with his fork, scooping up the rest of the wild rice casserole and shoving it into his mouth before she could whisk the earthenware plate away. She smiled weakly at Jordan. "Beyond them, I'm rather useless."

"Don't believe her," Castle advised, his mouth full. "She's a _great_ cook!"

Jordan eyed them both, a sly grin ascending her lips. "So, I take it you two have moved beyond the 'he observes me' stage?"

Castle held up one finger, finished chewing, swallowed, and nodded. "Yes," he glanced at Beckett who was watching him warily. "It took some convincing, but yes, we're together." He used a fork tine to pick a piece of rice from between his teeth. "You know, _together_, together. Meaning…"

"I know what _together_ means, Mr. Castle" she assured him. "So," she directed her question to Kate. "Has this created any issues at the precinct?"

Kate shook her head as she finished rinsing the dish in her hand. "No, not really," she answered over her shoulder, shutting off the water. "We try to keep things discreet while we're there."

"Except when Beckett can't keep her hands off of me. Do you know how many times she's shoved me into the supply closet...?"

"So," Kate interrupted, shooting Castle a dirty look as she collected more dishes. "What have we got on the vics in Wyoming? Anything more than what we have on _our_ vics?"

Jordan picked up her wine glass and stood up, she followed Kate to the kitchen island and parked on a stool. "Not much. Pretty much the same information I told you this afternoon. We still haven't been able to I.D. one of them. The other two," she waved her hand in the air, "…it's like they don't exist."

"Don't exist?" Castle asked, having followed Jordan to the kitchen. "What do you mean?"

"Meaning," Jordan began, her eyebrows arched, "…that on paper, these women don't exist. No bank accounts, no activity on their social security numbers, no known addresses, no next of kin, nothing."

"Ooh," Castle interrupted, his face serious as stone, "…maybe they're from another _dimension_!"

Jordan stared at him for a beat before returning her gaze to Kate. "I see _some_ things have not changed?"

Kate planted her palms on the counter and rolled her eyes, nodding. No need to explain, Jordan already knew about Castle and his crazy theories.

"Anyway," she resumed, shooting Castle an amused look, "I'm assuming the same is true with the New York vics, although the fact that one of them has a family is helpful." She snapped her fingers, remembering. "Oh! I'm interviewing the ex-husband and her kids tomorrow," she finished the rest of her wine and set the glass down with a _clank_. "You want in?"

Kate nodded. "Yeah. I'll be there."

"Wait, we're just now getting around to interviewing them? It's been a week," Castle chimed in.

"They were out of town. Wanted to bury her in the family plot up in Minnesota."

"Ah," Castle nodded.

Jordan slipped off the stool, picking up her purse from the floor. "It'll be good to have you in on the interview, Kate, maybe we'll finally catch a break on this case." She slung her purse over one shoulder. "But, for now, if I have any hope of seeing my daughter before she goes to bed, I think it's time for me to head home." She nodded at Kate and grinned at Castle before following Kate to the door. "Thank you for dinner, by the way. It was delicious." She patted her stomach.

Kate smiled, "Oh, you're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."

Shaking Kate's hand, she replied, "I did. Very much." She looked at Castle, "Mr. Castle? Always a pleasure."

Castle gave her a curt nod. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

**T**he dishes were done, the leftovers put away, and Kate was at her desk, going over all of the case evidence one more time in preparation for the family interviews tomorrow. Castle could tell she was avoiding him, finding every excuse not to go to bed. She was still worried, even though it had been a week since he'd hurt his back, that he couldn't handle the Kama Sutra. He had made it his mission tonight to convince her otherwise.

He sidled up behind her, grabbing the small chair in the corner to sit on, and placed both hands on her shoulders, kneading her tense muscles. He rolled her chair so she was between the vee of his legs. "See anything new?"

She sighed, leaning back, covering her eyes with one hand. "No, nothing." She craned her head to the side as he dug into her sore neck, circling the quadrangular muscles with attentive fingers, eliciting a grateful moan from her lips. She sat up, tucked her chin to her chest, giving him full access to her aching neck and shoulders.

He worked his magic, his fingers kneading into her tired muscles in all the right spots. He knew exactly where she held her tension, and the goose-bumps standing at attention on her arms told him he was on the right course.

After she had relaxed, her body going limp, her breathing even, he'd swept her hair to one side, his lips descending on her neck, kissing her softly. She shuddered, a gentle sigh escaping her lips. "Kate?" he whispered.

She opened one eye. "Hmmm?"

He peppered her with tiny little kisses, tracing a path from her neck to her earlobe, which he carefully took between his teeth before gently laving it with his tongue. He smiled at her muted gasp. His voice low, husky, seductive, he whispered, "I _want_ you."

He sucked her earlobe.

One slender hand flew up, her fingers raking parallel lines through his hair. "Ohhhh, god," she breathed, shifting in her chair. "Castle, are you sure? I'm worried…"

He growled, "I'm sure."

She exhaled. "You're sure, sure?" He nibbled on her earlobe some more, his tongue darting out to fill the cavern of her ear and she shuddered again, her eyes rolling back in her head, every sinewy fiber of her body alerted to this change in mood. "Like, _really_ sure?"

He was at her neck again, breathing in the delicious cherry-vanilla scent of her, his lips tracing a wet path along her tepid skin. "Mmm hmm," he moaned.

"Because-"

He stopped her words with his mouth, his tongue skirting her lips, darting in and out, weaving with her tongue in an unrehearsed tango that left them both feeling like they'd just been swept away. He swung her chair around so she faced him and then they stood together, his hands framing her face before their lips parted with an audible _smack._

He leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy, his breaths in and out matching the tempo and rhythm of her pulse. "I _want_ you, Kate. I'm ready."

Her body vibrating, her senses charged, ready, _wanting, _she didn't need any more convincing. She purred, her gaze dropping to his lips, a gentle smile curving her mouth. "Let's go, then." And she turned around and sauntered to the bedroom, her hair falling loosely down her back, her hips swaying seductively. She disrobed as she walked, leaving a haphazard trail of her clothing on the floor for him to follow, like breadcrumbs on a mountain hike, and he hurried behind her, quickly divesting himself of his own wrinkled garments.

* * *

**S**he came out of the bathroom, padding across the room, all long legs and flowing chestnut locks, not a stitch of clothing on her. He would never grow used to seeing her like this, so open, so willing, looking positively like a Greek goddess. Her beauty was imperfect, and although he appreciated her lines and curves, the softest parts of her, it was her _way_, her siren-like seduction, her keen intelligence, her attention to details, that made her so _damn sexy!_

She was like a lioness hunting for prey, the way she sidled up to him, crawling onto the bed on all fours, making her way up his body, her eyes locked on his, a seductive, almost feline-like hungeretched on her face. His response was immediate and she smiled, pausing briefly on her journey, to enjoy his arousal. Which had only _grown_ with the quirk of her eyebrow, the playful lilt and rise of her lips as she whispered his name, and then bespoke, in that alluring, siren-esque way of hers, all of the dirty things she wanted to do to him.

She continued her cat-like ascent up his body, her lips and tongue exploring the taste and texture of his tepid flesh, her hands mapping a path over his hard lines and softer angles, her breasts brushing against him, their gumdrop nipples hard and insistent. And, as he watched her, the admiration swimming like liquid gold across his eyes, his body began to hum, to quake, in anticipation, desire, _need._

She straddled him on all fours, her lips feathered against the column of his throat, hovering, waiting, just the slightest touch, like a hummingbird, and he lost his breath. A girlish giggle rose from her chest and she ended his torture with the firm press of her lips on his flesh, her tongue darting out to lick him.

She felt his erection against her thigh and she reached between them with one slender hand, taking him firmly in her grasp, stroking him slowly, gently, like she would a baby bird, as she kissed her way up his throat, his jaw line, her mouth capturing his in a foolish, dizzying kiss. She savored the sounds coming from his chest, the mewling almost puppyish whimpers and a kittenish grin graced her lips.

"Last chance to back out, Castle," she warned.

He growled.

She took that as a _no._

He'd closed his eyes and when he opened them again, startled by her sudden movement, she'd turned around, her back to him, her knees bent, her peach-shaped ass straddling his hardened arousal, and he held his breath, reaching out with trembling fingers to trace her spine, her skin warm, wet, practically _vibrating_.

It took him a minute to realize what she was doing, and then, like a bolt of lightening, he remembered.

_The Double Decker_.

She held the length of him between her legs, her outer lips coasting him with her wetness, his erection trapped between her hands and pelvis, and he closed his eyes and moaned, a litany of forbidden desires spilling from his lips. Then, with the skill of an ageing Geisha, she rose up, his tip barely touching her entrance, flirting with it, sliding it over her hardened clit, and then slowly, gradually, she lowered herself onto him, her body stretching to accommodate his depth and girth, gripping him with strong but elastic muscles.

He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut and then opening, his pupils dilated, his baby blue's laced with midnight indigo as he took her in. Her back was arched, her hair spilling down her delicate spine, and his gaze dropped to the place where they were joined. He exhaled, slowly, deliberately, watching her as she gripped him, sliding him, with a masters precision, in and out of her, her tempo measured, slow, _deliberate_. His erection glistened from her wetness, and it hit him like a tsunami, his attraction, his devotion, to her_._ It was so complete, so consuming, and at moments like this, when they were together like _this_, it rippled through every single part of him, every hair and fiber, pore and cell, and he was sure that their collective carnal energy could tilt the world off its axis.

His orgasm was building, so was hers, he could tell, so familiar was he with the way she moved and breathed, the subtle changes in the way her muscles compressed and released him, the circle of her hips, the flush of her skin. She reached behind her with both hands, her palms flat on the mattress beside him, and slowly lowered herself so that her head was cradled in the crook of his neck, her legs extended in front of her, her knees bent, her toes curling, digging into his calves. He brought his arms around to her front, one hand reaching low, the other high, and she let slip a barely audible _'ohhhhh,' _before he resumed their metronomic gyrations.

It was an awkward position and Kate felt completely vulnerable, his greedy, nimble hand on her breast, the other expertly coaxing her clit, all while he moved in and out of her. The tickle in her belly pulsed, its concentric arc growing wider and wider with each contraction, until it had consumed her entire being and she was vibrating helplessly against him.

He had his mouth at her ear, his whispers garbled and incoherent, but she understood him, agreed with him, their a capella moans rising above them in a holy chorus, a talisman against the darker days ahead.

She tried to keep her balance, but the orgasm was coming and her feet kept slipping off his calves, their bodies now so slick with sweat; she felt like a slippery fish.

His fingers of one hand pulling on her nipple, twisting and teasing, massaging her breast, the fingers of the other circling her clit, coaxing her climax, her penultimate cries a harbinger of the explosion to come.

And, then she _came_. Shuddering, screaming, writhing, his name rushing past her lips and echoing around the small room, bouncing from the walls, joining their carnal chorus from minutes before.

When she had calmed, the rise and fall of her chest slowing, her pulse returning to normal, he tried to increase his pace, but their position, and the slickness of their bodies, made it hard for him, he kept slipping out of her and she had to keep guiding him back in.

Finally, with a frustrated grunt and a '_fuck,'_ he grabbed her around the middle and flipped them, so now she was face down on the bed, and he was on top of her.

And, still inside of her.

He set a punishing rhythm and it wasn't long before _her_ name came rushing past _his_ lips and he spilled into her like a stupefied adolescent.

"_God, Kate, fuck." _

And, he collapsed beside her on the bed, both of them tummy-down, facing each other. He reached over and moved the errant curls of hair that had fallen over her face, and saw that she was smiling, staring at him with adoring eyes.

"How's your back?" She asked.

"Ready for round two," he answered.

**A/N: I am so sorry to all of you who have left reviews on the last chapter. I really wanted to respond to all of you individually, but work has been CRAZY and I didn't want to delay posting a new chapter until I'd replied to all of you. So, please accept my apologies and know that I am eternally grateful for your comments. I promise, I will catch up with you all this weekend!**

**Also, I heard you on the last chapter. Some of you want warnings if it's not a Caskett chapter. I'm not a big fan of spoilers, I think in a fic like this, part of the enjoyment is in NOT knowing what's coming. However, for those of you who feel strongly about this, I've come up with a compromise. I will post a warning, but it will be in code. To decode it, you just replace a with z, b with y, and so forth. Type the alphabet forwards, then beneath that type it backwards, and you will have the key to the secret code. Okay? Let's try it. Can you decode this message? "Gszmp blf "**


	19. The Seduction

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Nineteen: The Seduction**

**S**he was like a caged animal, pacing back and forth in front of the closed door to her apartment, waiting for Castle to arrive with their dinner; angry, pensive, ready to attack. Today had _not_ been a good day, not a good day at all. Everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong, and on top of that, they had another body. Another female victim with an L shaped scar, and Kate was no closer to solving this case than she had been on the day she'd caught it.

And, it was _really_ starting to piss her off!

And, so she was pacing, biting her thumbnails, going over the case in her mind and only getting _more_ angry because she _couldn't_ _fucking_ _figure_ _it_ _out_!

She was edgy, heated, full of pent-up energy that she couldn't contain in her body anymore, and she felt like she might just leap right out of her own skin.

She had to get _physical_ or she was going to go bat-shit crazy.

She was about to give up on dinner, put on her workout gear, head to the gym with the hopes that she could find a sparring partner at this hour of the day, when she heard the familiar _click_ of his key in the lock.

And, she changed her mind.

He was barely across the threshold when she pounced on him, her hands ripping through his clothes, her mouth capturing his in a frenzied kiss, her teeth tugging violently on his bottom lip; and he gasped and stuttered, unsure of what had just hit him. She was like a twirling dervish, an _angry_ twirling dervish, and it took all of his strength to just stay _upright._

She knocked the carry-out containers out of his grasp and they hit the floor with a _splat_! Chinese food spilling out in Rorschach like patterns on the hardwood floor.

"Use your _hands!" _She demanded.

He tried, but she was batting him away, impatient with his feeble attempts to corral her, draw her in, calm her down. She clearly did not want to _be_ calmed down, and so he tried, instead, to simply keep up.

They moved as one furious, dizzy, _whirling_ unit to the living room, leaving articles of clothing, much of them torn and missing buttons (in the days to come Kate will find those buttons hidden under counters, in dusty corners, and remember, gratefully, how he'd just let her have her way with him), in a haphazard wake behind them. When they were completely naked, panting, breathless, their bodies pink and humming, she hooked both arms around his neck and jumped on him, coiling her legs around his middle, completely forgetting his still-healing back, as her lips continued their assault, her tongue impassioned and dangerous, and she was delirious in her fearless exploration, her carnal mission to _kiss_ him into submission.

But he was catching on, her mood proving to be contagious and he spun them around and shoved her roughly against the brick wall beside the bookcase, her breath gushing past her lips in a surprised gasp. He stared at her with hooded eyes, his normally jovial baby-blue's swimming with midnight lust; he wasn't smiling, he was just staring, meeting her angry gaze.

And, then he entered her with one quick hard _thrust_, and she closed her eyes, a sharp '_ohhhh!'_ rushing past her lips, and she dug her nails into the soft flesh of his back just as he pulled out and did it again, _hard_.

And, then again. And, again.

She threw her head back, slamming it against the wall, not even caring, or noticing, as the goose egg began forming on her unprotected skull, and she _rode him_ with a vengeance.

She grabbed the back of his head, her fingers slicing through his thick hair, and pulled him greedily towards her, guiding his lips to her breasts, her nipples hard and erect, waiting for the harsh suction of his mouth, the sharp flick of his tongue. She didn't have to instruct him, by now he had caught on and he knew _just_ what to do.

He _bit_ her.

Hard.

And, she _roared_. "Fuck! Castle!"

He did it again, gentler this time, playful and mischievous, nibbling on her salty skin, the taste of her coursing on his tongue as it darted out to lave her tepid flesh, leaving a wet trail from her breasts to her lips.

They met in another violent kiss, their tongues weaving and dancing, unbridled and foolish, unable to get deep enough, close enough, _enough_ enough.

Her orgasm was building, shards of pleasure radiating from between her legs as he pounded her, their bodies in perfect synchronistic rhythm, their frenzied pace not tempered by the wave of playfulness that had come over them, that had rounded the harsh corners of her anger without mulling their sexual fervor in the least.

She was still _rabid_.

She slashed at his ear with her teeth, biting its shell, sucking his earlobe, spilling filthy secrets with carnal deep-throated whispers, enjoying his shuddered flesh as she talked dirty to him; all while her orgasm was building, spiraling. She was on the precipice, high above them, the air thin and hot, her body slick with sweat, helping to alleviate the effects of the rough brick as it tore at her naked back, creating crisscrossing patterns of scraped flesh.

She gripped him tightly, with strong, elastic, inner muscles and he slowed, knowing exactly what she needed in order to topple over the edge, circling his hips, ramming his pelvis against her hardened clit, penetrating her deeply, thick and full inside of her, _consuming_ her.

As cluttered as her mind had felt before, it was equally clear and focused now. She froze, her body pulsing, her breath stalled, her thoughts in a salacious and unrelenting union, matched only by the ripples of desire that washed over her like a tsunami, breaking and crashing against her wet, furious, _wanting_ center, and then receding like the tide, tentacles of pleasure clinging to the sand as they retreated with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and, she was temporarily without breath.

Or, thought.

Or, muscle.

He held her tightly, as she panted against him, struggling to keep them upright, which wasn't easy because they were both wet and slick, hot, _breathless_. But slowly he could feel her contracting around his rigid erection, urging him, coaxing him silently with her seductive body, and he continued his gyrations. Circling, pumping, once, twice, faster, harder, until he could feel his own unraveling, He cried out, her name ghosting his lips and echoing around them as he came, spewing into her like a volcano, guttural, primal, filled with basic need and want, unrelenting _desire_. For her, always for her. Forever for her.

* * *

**T**hey ate on the floor, naked, hungry, stabbing at the food that hadn't spilled out of the containers with plastic forks, forgoing proper utensils, plates or etiquette; Miss Manners would be appalled, especially as they took turns licking each other, replacing napkins with tongues as the savory juices from their food dribbled down their chins. Castle opened a bottle of wine and they didn't bother with glasses, drinking the crimson liquid right from the bottle, appreciating the burn as it slid down their throats. You weren't supposed to do it that way, the wine was supposed to _breathe, _but they didn't care. They were feeling primitive today, and eating on the floor, with their backs against the kitchen counter, their bare legs stretched out in front of them, they were satiated, happy, the anger that had been tearing Kate's insides to shreds was gone, or at least, for now, it was dormant.

Castle had to pee. So, he jumped up, a little tipsy from the wine, and stumbled into the bathroom. While passing through the bedroom on his way back the kitchen, he eyed the book on her nightstand and grabbed it, curious if they'd even come close to today's position.

They hadn't.

Back beside her on the kitchen floor, the book cradled in his lap, they peered at position nineteen, _The Seduction_.

"Hmmm," Kate hummed, inching closer to him.

Side-glancing at her, his eyes crinkled at the corners, he pitched a mischievous smile. "Yeah?"

She grinned, cocking her head to study the challenging position. She bit her thumbnail and nodded, meeting his gaze. "Yeah."


	20. The Crouching Tiger

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twenty: The Crouching Tiger**

**A/N: You will need to suspend your disbelief over NYC's prissy open bottle laws. You'll see what I mean. Enjoy.**

**S**he'd stood him up yet again. Fourth Saturday in a row, and this one _hurt_. This one had stabbed him right through the heart, twisted the knife 180 degrees, first to the left and then to the right, and then shoved it in just a little bit deeper for good measure.

She had no idea how much he missed her, how much he thought about her, how many times he'd sat blank-faced and dysthymic, slumped over his desk, staring at her picture, wondering where she was or what she was doing – or whom she was with.

He worried most especially about whom she was with.

Kate was both understanding _and_ furious with Alexis for cancelling her plans with her dad, no matter how tentative those plans had been.

Understanding, because she remembered what it was like on _her_ first semester away at school. She'd wanted to exert her independence, test her wings, find some space from her parents. Not to mention, the coursework was so demanding, that whenever she _had_ had free time, she'd usually just spent it curled up on top of an unmade bed, trying to catch a few winks, or hanging out with friends. There wasn't much time for family.

But Kate was also _furious_, because she knew how much being edged out of Alexis' life was _killing_ Castle.

She'd watched him try to brush it off; telling Alexis he understood as he walked in circles in the middle of the living room, clutching the phone to his ear, listening to her explain why, once again, she'd had to cancel their plans. And, when he'd seen Kate watching him, he'd collected himself quickly, flashing her a bright smile and a thumbs up, not wanting to betray his truest emotions.

But, she could still see it there, in the corners of his eyes, the pain, the sadness at knowing the terrible truth that his daughter, day-by-day, was moving further away from the nest.

Further away from _him._

So, Kate had called in to the precinct, traded some favors, checked in with Agent Shaw who was in Jersey following up on the latest L-Scar homicide, and successfully cleared her day so she could spend it with Castle. She'd even looked ahead in the book, memorizing today's position, _The Crouching Tiger,_ so that later, when they were alone at her apartment, she would be ready.

It was a fitting name, too, because she was pretty sure one or both of them would be _pouncing_.

She'd told him to wear something comfortable, casual, preferably shorts and a t-shirt, while she'd slipped in to a short peach colored skirt, sandals, and a sleeveless white cotton v-neck top. Then she grabbed him by the hand, towed him out the door, down the elevator and onto the crowded busy street.

His pained expression improved with every step, and by the time they were on the subway platform, he looked positively like an excited little boy who was either skipping school to go on an illicit adventure, or who desperately needed to pee.

"Why are we taking the subway? Kate, I could have called a car service."

"Because this is _my_ date, Castle," she'd replied. "And, I'm keeping it simple."

He smiled down at her, adoration speckled like flecks of gold in his eyes, and she beamed at him, pleased that she could surprise him with the banality of a subway ride.

They stepped onto the crowded subway car, weaving their way to the back where they could stand together. It was so crowded that the hands of the other travelers were hanging beside their own, like coats in a closet, swaying to and fro, sometimes lurching with the unexpected movements of the subway as it traveled on it's single minded journey, crisscrossing through the tunnels beneath Manhattan's bustling sidewalks and streets.

But there was one hand, _his _hand, frisky and more disobedient than the rest, moving up her thigh, then gently beneath her skirt, his fingers cool and soft, in spite of the unusual autumn heat wave. She glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him a playful shake of the head, her hand swatting his away, even though she _liked_ where he was headed.

"I'm not used to seeing your _legs_, Kate. At least not outside of the bedroom." He whispered, tripping his fingers down the back of her thigh again. "Can you blame me if I can't help but _touch?_"

She rolled her eyes and swatted his wandering hand again, secretly enjoying the sway of their bodies as she fell against him when the subway lurched to a stop. His hands lingered around her waist, steadying her body against his for one beat too long, and with mock disapproval, she grabbed his hand again and led him out of the subway car. They sailed past a never-ending parade of people, some obviously on their way to work looking bored and self-important, others were tourists, obviously lost and a little afraid of the textured life of the New York underground.

They climbed their way to the sun-drenched street above, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the bright late-morning light. Central park was an emerald oasis located in the heart of the city, and it's where Kate had always loved to go to unwind.

And, play.

"Come on," she said. "This way."

Holding his hand again, she weaved expertly through the onslaught of busy New Yorkers and bustling tourists as though she were a water skier and they were the waves, until she reached a section of the park sprinkled with people sitting on blankets, and towels, or the bare green grass. Some were eating, others with their noses in books, reading, still others with their faces raised to the sky, soaking in the rare summer-like warmth of the autumn sun.

She led him to a spot under a huge elm tree where a red-checkered blanket was already spread out, and a uniformed caterer was standing guard over a large wicker basket with lunch food and wine. Kate tipped the man, thanking him with a nod and a smile and then she spun around to see Castle grinning from ear to ear.

"Here we are," she said, toeing off her sandals and gesturing at the blanket. "A picnic lunch." She stepped onto the blanket and reached for him, he slipped out of his shoes and joined her, a bright smile adorning his face.

"Beckett, you," he looked at the blanket, the basket, then back at her. "You arranged all of this _this morning?_" He lowered himself onto the blanket next to her, sitting cross-legged. "How? When? How did you do that?"

She reached into the basket and pulled out the red wine, handing him the bottle and the corkscrew, then she pulled out two glasses. "I called in a few favors," she blinked at him, a kittenish grin gracing her lips. "You're not the only one in this relationship with connections, you know."

He struggled against the cork, finally managing to free it from the bottle with an audible _pop_, and then half-filled each of the glasses she was holding out to him with the rich crimson liquid. He took one goblet from her outstretched hands. "Well then," he said, looking at her with admiring eyes, the glass held in the air between them, "…to connections." They clinked glasses, a diminutive _ping_ rising in the air above them, and they each took a long sip. He smiled at her, smacking his lips, adorable crinkles fanning the corners of his eyes, and said, "You never cease to amaze me, Kate."

She glowed, feeling immensely relieved that he was so surprised. "So, you like it?"

Castle leaned forward and whispered, his lips ghosting hers. "I love it, Kate." He kissed her, soft and sweet, their lips meeting and parting once, twice, a third time. "Thank you."

She smiled, so happy to see him finally relax. It was as if they were starting something over. Could it be their lives? Something as big as that? She didn't know. She just knew this, right here, right now, was the perfect time and place, and as they stretched out beneath the huge tree, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, their feet tangled together, toes curling, she closed her eyes and sighed.

She was _home._

And, so was _he_.

* * *

**A**cross the park, a pair of binoculars held to his troubled eyes, he watched the familiar couple as they laid claim to a patch of space below a tree. He'd followed them from the apartment building; pacing a safe distance so they wouldn't see him, and he was reasonably certain he had been successful in that endeavor.

He had been surprised at their destination, at the picnic, the wine, the way they were dressed, the free way she laughed at his jokes, the way he tucked her hair behind her ear, a gesture so familiar, so loving, it is reserved only for those who are most comfortable with their intimacy.

And, as he started to wonder at the nature of their relationship, his mouth fell open and he watched them kiss.

And, a sly grin crept up his face.

He couldn't _be_ more pleased.


	21. The Hero

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits**  
**

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Hero**

**S**he watched them with narrowed eyes as she stood in front of the thick-paned glass that separated her office from the rest of the bullpen. They were standing too close, their gestures too familiar, too intimate, and how many times did two people, _who knew each other,_ shake hands in a day?

She'd suspected for quite some time that the pair were sleeping together, and while it would be a joy beyond _all_ joys to kick Mr. Castle out of her precinct - for surely this gave her just the ammunition she needed - she'd hesitated to do it.

She'd grown accustomed to him.

Daresay it, she even _liked_ him a little bit.

She would never admit that however, even if under oath, because he represented everything she hated. He was childish and impulsive, arrogant and flippant, and constantly questioned her authority. Quite honestly, she couldn't understand how Roy Montgomery had ever even agreed to allow Mr. Castle to shadow Kate in the _first_ place.

But, her predecessor had obviously seen at the beginning what Gates was starting to see now. That Detective Beckett and Richard Castle were an effective, albeit unorthodox, team.

And, as she watched them through the thick pane of glass, she had to admit that despite her misgivings about the unconventional duo; there was no reason to fix something that wasn't broken.

* * *

"**I** am _not_ doing that one, Castle."

"Kate, c'mon. We agreed."

"No."

Kate grabbed her mug and shot up from the desk, unaware that Gates had been watching her. "You want some coffee?"

He followed her like a lost puppy as she marched into the break room. "You know what I _want_," he whispered. "And it _ain't _coffee."

She slammed the mug down on the counter more forcefully than she'd intended and the _crack_ of ceramic hitting wood caused more than a few heads to turn in her direction.

Castle jumped.

She turned on him, her chestnut curls bouncing around her shoulders, one hand firmly on her hip. "I told you, it's a ridiculous looking position, and I'm _not_ doing it!"

"What is the _problem_?"

"Did you even _look_ at it? It makes you look like you're changing my diaper."

"Ew, Kate. Gross."

She pointed at him with a stir stick. "Exactly!"

"Ugh. Why did you have to go and ruin it by saying that?!" He gestured in front of his face. "I don't need that image in my head. Now it's going to be on an infernal loop," he sulked.

Kate shrugged, tapping the counter with her fingers as she waited for the coffee to brew.

He backed away from the counter. "I'm gonna go look at it again." And, he hurried into the bullpen before Kate could protest, wondering where he was going to check, since the book was safely tucked away in her bedside table.

When he hiked back with the book in hand her jaw dropped and she nervously looked around. "Castle!" she hissed. "What the? _Why_ did you bring that here?"

He dropped the book on the table and sat down, pulling the chair beside him out from the table and patting the seat. "Relax, it's not ours."

"What?"

He thumbed behind him, "Espo bought it for Ryan and Jenny," he flipped through the pages. "You know," he continued, rolling his finger in the air, "…to help with the baby making?"

Kate plopped down in the chair beside him, setting her coffee on the table in front of her. "Well, that's just," she paused, thinking. "…weird."

Castle grunted. "Yeah. Okay," he pointed at the cartoon couple on the page. "Kate, that does _not_ look like, you know, what you said before." He held up a staying palm. "_Don't_ say it again!" he cautioned.

"Mr. Castle," Captain Gates intruded, breezing into the room and opening the fridge. "Detective. Where are we with the-?"

She stopped abruptly when Castle yelped, slamming the book closed. Kate scrambled to turn it over, and in the process, spilled her coffee all over the tabletop and onto the floor. Castle shot up, knocking his chair over, and sat on top of the table, his right butt cheek covering the book.

He tried to look casual. "Captain Hates. Bates. _Gates_!" he stammered. "What? Hi. How. What? How are you? We were just," he side-glanced at Kate who was frozen in her spot, staring at the floor, the coffee pooling around her feet. "Um," he watched Gates as she approached the table, one eyebrow raised, her eyes scanning its surface, trying to see around Castle's hip. "…talking," he nervously raked his fingers through his hair, leaving parallel lines in their wake. "…about, you know, the case."

"Ah ha," Gates replied, stopping in front of him, her arms folded across her chest. "May I ask what you're hiding under there, Mr. Castle?"

Castle swallowed, fingering the collar of his shirt. "What?" he opened his arms wide, "What? I'm not."

Gates held out two fingers and motioned him aside like Obi Wan Kenobi commanding storm troopers from Luke Skywalker's Landspeeder. Finally finding her voice, Kate jumped to his side. "Captain, let me explain. It's not what you think."

She turned the book over and peered at the cover, _100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra. _She glared at the pair, eyebrows high. "And, what _do_ I think, Detective?"

Kate coughed, shuffling her feet. "Ah, well, that." She glanced in Castle's direction. "Castle and I. Um, that..."

"It's not our book, Captain," Castle blurted.

"It's not."

"No, ah, sir. It's…" Kate started.

"It's a present," he stammered. "You know, for Ryan and Jenny." He scratched his ear. "To help them make a baby?"

Kate elbowed him.

_Hard._

"Ouch!"

Gates held up her hand, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry I asked." She gave them a disapproving look. "I'll trust you to take this away? It's hardly appropriate reading material at work."

"Yes, sir," Kate replied, pinching Castle on the bicep, while shooting him a dirty look.

Gates threw them one more dissatisfied look after reaching into the fridge for her lunch, and then disappeared around the corner, shaking her head.

Kate spun on Castle and poked him in the chest. "Are you..." poke, "...trying to..." poke, "get me…" poke, poke, "…fired?!" Poke.

"Ow, stop it!" he whined, rubbing the spot she'd just repeatedly poked. "She doesn't suspect anything, Kate. Don't be paranoid." He frowned, still rubbing his chest. "That's going to bruise in the morning."

She rolled her eyes at him and then turned to look out of the glass that faced the bullpen, her anxious hazel eyes following Gates' path back to her office. "You think?"

"Please," he started, righting her upturned mug and gesturing for her to give him some paper towels. "She has _no_ idea!"

Kate bit the inside of her cheek. "I suppose you're right." She conceded, grabbing the roll of paper towels. "No thanks to you, though!" she added, throwing them at his head.

Castle grunted, expertly catching the roll. "Psshh, she's never going to find out, Kate. Stop worrying."

* * *

**D**id they think she was born yesterday?

Gates peeled the lid from the Tupperware bowl that housed her salad, picked up a plastic fork and stabbed at a grape tomato. She glanced out at the bullpen again, an amused smile on her face. As soon as she'd seen that book, _everything_ had fallen into place. The scar on Kate's lip, Castle's back problems, their sudden giddiness and unvarying _"Just been laid,_" expressions. _That_ book might have been for Ryan, but clearly, Kate and Castle were toiling their way through it too.

After washing down her first bites of lunch with a generous swig of water, she grinned, fingering the small scar on her chin and murmuring to herself.

"I wonder how they'll handle number ninety-five."

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position would have been, do a google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I'd be happy to share the link. You can follow me on Twitter, as well (krdaniels). **


	22. The Dolphin

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Dolphin**

"**O**oof,"

"I've got you."

"You don't have me, Castle."

"I do. I've got you."

"Don't drop me!"

"Kate. C'mon. Have a little faith."

She glared down at him and pointed at the small scar on her lip, making a face.

"Okay, fine. But, that only happened once! And, I was. We were. It was in the throes of passion. Not," he let go of her ankle to gesture upwards.

"Don't let go!" She barked.

"…while patching the ceiling." He finished, grasping her ankles as she stood on the top rung of the ladder. "Why are you doing this yourself, again? Can't the building super take care of it?"

"I told you, it'll take weeks for him to get to it, and I'm tired of looking at it."

A glob of Spackle dropped from the putty knife and landed on top of his head. He swatted at it, but only managed to spread it further into his hair. "Oh, man? Kate, watch out with that stuff."

"Don't let go!" She barked again, adding, "…sorry about that."

"This is _not_ going to come out," he complained, vigorously shaking his head, trying to fling the Spackle from his unwashed hair.

"Oh, quit your bitching," she admonished.

He sulked.

"I heard that."

"You heard-?" He made a face. "Stop with the Jedi mind tricks, Kate."

She chuckled. "Okay, done for now. Coming down." She plunged the putty knife into the Spackle container, and slid the handle over her wrist where it hung like a gaudy bracelet, then she gingerly lowered one foot onto the top rung, while grabbing the top of the ladder with both hands. As she descended the ladder, he held onto her bare calves, then her thighs, and as his hands tripped along the hem of her shorts, sliding over the curve of her ass, she glanced behind her, smirking. "Thanks. I think I've got it."

He encircled her waist, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he met her gaze. "You sure? I don't want you to fall."

She jumped off the bottom rung, turned around and leaned into his arms. She kissed the tip of his nose, "I'm sure, smartass."

He spanked her. "That's _Mr._ smartass."

Ignoring him, she reached up and fingered the glob of Spackle in his hair, "Geez, Castle, we might have to _cut_ that out."

He ducked away from her, his hand instinctively protecting his Spackled hair. "No. You're not cutting anything." He pouted, wincing as he tried to separate the paste from his hair. "We'll wash it out. If that doesn't work, we'll try peanut butter."

"Peanut butter?"

"Yeah, whenever I fell asleep with bubble gum in my mouth, I'd wake up with it in my hair. Mother used peanut butter to break down the gum and it'd _slide_ right out." He gestured in front of him, his palm down, skimming the air like a surfboard.

"Ah," Kate replied, setting the small tub of Spackle on the kitchen counter and turning on the faucet to wash her hands.

"So," he started, rocking on his heels as he looked up at the ceiling. "We just have to wait for that to dry, and then sand it, and then we can paint?"

"We?"

"You."

"Uh huh," she teased. "But let's eat lunch, I'm starving."

They perused the temple of takeout containers stacked in her fridge, choosing to keep it simple by heating up leftover pizza in the microwave and cracking open a couple of bottles of Stella Artois. Pizza and beer in hand, they flopped onto the couch.

Clinking bottles, a robust _ping_ echoing between them, Castle cocked his head and asked, "How did you learn to be so handy?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"With home improvement, Kate. Dirty mind."

She laughed. "My dad taught me. Made me learn how to change a tire and the oil in his car before he'd let me drive it." She stared at the spot on the ceiling and smiled, remembering. "He always said, '_Katie, if you want the pleasure of driving my car, then you must also learn how to take care of it!'_"

"Smart man," Castle observed.

"Yeah. I didn't appreciate it then, but now..." She pointed at the spot of drying Spackle on her ceiling. "I'm grateful he took the time to do that. A lot of fathers wouldn't bother."

Castle clunked his beer bottle on the coffee table, droplets of cold brew spewing upwards like a volcano and leaving a foamy trail down the green bottle. "I'm a horrible father!" He whined. "I never taught Alexis _any_ of that."

Kate side-glanced at him, surprised when she saw that he looked serious. She reached out and patted his knee reassuringly. "Castle. You're a _great_ father. What are you talking about?"

"She's never gonna know how to change a flat tire," he began. "Or, spackle a ceiling."

Kate deposited her pizza on the coffee table and inched closer to him. "Oh, stop it. She's a smart kid, she'll learn how to do all of that stuff." She swatted his knee. "You gave Alexis what every kid _needs, _Castle. And a whole lot more. She _adores_ you!"

"She _is_ a great kid," he agreed, brightening. "I don't know why. Between her mother and I, we weren't the best role models." He took a huge bite of his pizza.

"You loved her. You kept her safe. You gave her all kinds of adventures, you paid attention to her. You are a _fabulous_ dad," she tried to reassure him. "It's one of the reasons why I love you."

He smiled, leaning in for a kiss. Their lips lingered, their fingers entwining, until they finally pulled away. Kate, her face inches from his, smiled adoringly. "Besides, Castle. You can't teach what you don't _know_."

He jerked back, feigning offense. "Wha-?"

She patted his cheek, running her thumb over his bottom lip to wipe the pizza grease away before kissing him once more. "You know it's true, Castle. Mr. _handyman_, you're not."

* * *

**T**hey were both speckled in white paint. Castle more than Kate, which was weird because Kate was closer to the roller.

"You must have some kind of magnetism," she reasoned. "Like sweet blood to a mosquito."

He stood in her living room, his arms fanned out from his body. "You did that on purpose!" He accused, surveying the dots, drops, and lines of white paint that adorned his arms.

"What?" she replied, folding the last of the drop cloths and putting them in the plastic storage bin. "I did no such thing!"

"Well, how do _you_ explain it?"

She sealed the lid on the large container and kicked it towards the front door, she'd take it down to storage later. Exasperated, she turned to face him, her hands on her hips. She blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "I can't. What I _can_ explain is that you'd better get in the shower if you want to get it off of you. Plus," she glanced at the kitchen clock, "...we're supposed to meet Alexis and your Mother at the restaurant in an hour and a half."

He ambled towards her, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Well, then, Beckett. Seems to me we'd be saving time if we took that shower _together_." He snaked one paint-splattered arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

She smiled against his mouth, the familiar _pull_ from her tummy drawing her to him. "I don't think that's going to _save_ us time, Castle." She nibbled on his bottom lip, already feeling his growing arousal against her thigh. She arched an eyebrow. "In fact, pretty sure that's going to make us _late."_

"We'd better get busy, then," he reasoned, shuffling her towards the bedroom. "We have a lot of _washing_ to do."

* * *

**H**is lips coasted down the long line of her throat, warm and wet, her head thrown back, her arms wrapped around his neck. She dropped the loofah sponge and couldn't be bothered to pick it up, having already thoroughly washed him with it anyway. His lips sought hers with the thirst of a dying man, and his immediate need for her carried him away from all reason, all sensibility and rational thought. His tongue found it's way into her mouth and his hands grasped her everywhere, desperate, searching. Every time, every single time with her was like this. Like it was their first time, or their last.

Fumbling and disoriented, he turned off the water and threw back the shower curtain. They stepped gingerly out of the bathtub, and as soon as her leg was clear of the porcelain edge, he picked her up, her legs wrapping tightly around his middle, her arms coiled around his neck. Their lips pressed together in a zealously adolescent kiss.

He knelt onto the bed, still holding her, his tongue tracing a bold path over the dangerous ridge of her teeth before he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and gingerly bit down. Releasing her, he mumbled, "Do you know today's Kama Sutra?"

She was breathless, voiceless, unable to answer him with any coherent reply and all she could do was nod, and when he dumped her onto the bed, her head and neck and shoulders the only parts of her making contact with the firm mattress, she grinned at him like a fertile lioness, _waiting_ for him to take her.

She felt him hard between her thighs and opened to him, her Amazon legs coiled around him, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his thighs. And, he entered her, filling her, her body stretching and opening, accommodating the full length of him. She shuddered, the unexpected sensations that being in this inverted position created rushing through her like shards of ice on a cold creek.

He moved inside of her quickly, quietly, choked with unspoken words and cries of pleasure that evaporated into long, agonizing sighs and moans. They tangoed like it was new, inventing dangerous moves in an ancient dance, and it wasn't long before Castle could feel the familiar prelude to his orgasm, and he slowed down, not wanting to deny Kate her moment of climax.

She cried out in frustration, his name roaring from her throat and swirling around the room on an echoed loop, and he obediently moved one hand to her swollen clit, urging the stubborn orgasm from her.

It worked.

She rippled beneath him, her breasts swaying up and down with every elongated thrust of him into her. Her body was covered in a mixture of sweat and the remnants of tepid water from their shower, and she squeezed her eyes closed, her mouth falling open.

He could _see_ the orgasm as it radiated throughout her body.

Her face was swollen and flushed and he wasn't sure if it was because she'd just _come_ or because all of the blood was rushing to her face from the inverted position. But, before he could ask if she wanted him to lower her to the mattress, her body went rigid, taut as a tightrope, and then she came _again_, her inner muscles gripping him tightly, contracting and loosening around him with each spasm of pleasure.

That was all it took to send _him_ over the cliff as well, and he soared, his body trembling, his hands gripping her peach-shaped ass tightly as he pumped into her once, twice, three times, emptying himself with each delicious wave of his orgasm.

And, then he gently eased out of her, his erection going soft and laid her easily on the bed, collapsing beside her, panting and pulsing, his mind spinning with carnal thoughts. When finally he had his breath, and his voice, he looked up at her. She was smiling warmly, her eyes closed, one arm thrown above her head. He rolled to his side and took one pink nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, swirling his tongue around it before letting it go with a _pop._

"I think we're going to be late for dinner," he surmised.

She opened one eye and peeked at the bedside clock. "Shit," she answered, without malice or scorn, in fact she giggled as she said it. "I need another shower, too." She patted his chest to get him to move so she could get up. She padded, naked and sweaty, smelling of sex, to the bathroom and when she heard him follow her, she wagged her finger at him. "Alone, Castle," she grinned. "Or we're _never_ going to get there."

* * *

**U**nbeknownst to them, at the very moment that Kate Beckett was taking her second shower of the night and Rick Castle was unsuccessfully trying to convince her to let him lather her up, the L Scar killer was killing again. This time in Pennsylvania. Two women. Both of whom had identical L shaped scars on their shoulders. Neither of whom had any identity, any family, anyone who loved or cared about them.

At least not until Detective Kate Beckett, who, while eating a scrumptious chocolate mousse as she dined at an overpriced restaurant with her boyfriend and his family, got a call from Special Agent Jordan Shaw informing her of the murders.

And, suddenly, for the first time in probably their _whole_ lives, Pennsylvania Jane Doe Number-One and Jane Doe Number-Two had a _fierce_ advocate on their side.

One who would eventually bring their killer to justice.

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, do a Google search for 100 Positions of the Kama Sutra, or PM me and I'd be happy to send you the link. You can also follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	23. The Frog

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Frog**

**H**e waited until he saw the light turn off in her apartment, and then the shadowy figure who'd had his binoculars trained on Kate Beckett's loft, darted across the rain-soaked street, dodging around a passing car that angrily honked at him, the peeling sound fading as the car sped off into the distance.

He hid behind the nearest bush and waited, knowing that eventually someone would open the secured front entrance and he'd be able to slip in before the door could ease shut, locking him out of any chance to reach her threshold.

He lowered the dark blue Yankee's baseball cap over his face, his eyes darting around to make sure he hadn't been noticed, and then, as he'd predicted, a young couple came rushing through the door like football players taking the homecoming field, and he deftly ascended the concrete stairs, reaching the door just as it was about to slam shut.

He slipped into the building and chose the stairs rather than the elevator, taking the steps two by two, so that by the time he'd reached her floor, he was panting and out of breath. He wasn't a young man anymore, and he made a mental note to keep reminding himself of that fact whenever he got it in his head to do these kinds of things. He stood doubled-over on the landing, filling his lungs with precious air, until his heart rate returned to normal.

He reached her door and stood mutely in front of it for several seconds; he considered knocking, imagined the look on their faces when the door swung open and they saw him standing there. But he couldn't. The risk was too great. So, instead, he pulled out the large manila envelope from inside his leather jacket, and leaned it up against her door. She would get it in the morning.

Or, Castle would.

Either way, they'd get the message.

* * *

**W**hen Kate woke up she was fidgety and alone. She swept the mattress beside her, and then craned her neck towards the bathroom. None of his familiar sounds or shadows greeted her, so she knew he wasn't in there, either. She rubbed the gravel from her eyes, threw back the covers, and swung her bare legs out of bed.

Throwing the threadbare sea green bathrobe over her naked body, her tousled hair falling loosely around her shoulders, she padded into the living room and looked around. No sign of him.

Where the hell was he?

In what was both impeccable and _eerie_ timing, she heard his key slip into the deadbolt, and watched as the rectangular lock turned ninety degrees to the left. The doorknob twisted in the opposite direction, and he came bursting in through the door, his keys and a brown paper bag in one hand, and a cardboard beverage carrier with two large coffee's stuffed in each corner, in the other.

He kicked the door closed and eyed her, his baby-blue's playfully absorbing her '_just been you know what-ed'_ look, and a slow grin crept up one corner of his mouth.

"Hey," he greeted, setting the bag and coffee down on the counter and crossing to her as she lazily made her way to him, still rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand.

"Hey," she replied, accepting his gentle kiss with closed eyes and a soft whimper. "Where'd you go? And, I assume one of those is for me?" She pointed at the coffees on the counter.

"Of course," he replied scooting back into the kitchen to wrestle one of the Styrofoam cups from its cardboard captivity. "Did you sleep well?" He asked her, his fingers skimming hers as she accepted the warm cup.

"Mmm hmm," she replied, closing her eyes and taking her first grateful sip of the aromatic liquid. She licked her lips and hiked one hip onto a kitchen stool. "What's in the bag?"

He held it up. "Bagels. Freshly baked. They're still warm." He opened the bag and took a long sniff, his eyes closing as he appreciated their savory odor.

"Ah."

"You hungry?"

She watched him, her head cocked to one side, as he pulled plates out of the cupboard, paying special attention to the way his backside hugged his jeans, and a coy smile graced her lips. "For bagels?"

"Yeah, what else-?" he turned around and caught her look, _that_ look, and he knew the bagels would long be cold before they ever had a chance to eat them. He slipped out of his light-weight jacket, tossing it onto one of the kitchen stools. "Why, Kate Beckett," he mused. "…I do believe you're feeling a bit frisky this morning?" He walked around the empty stool, stepping into the vee of her legs.

She snaked her hands around his middle, clasping her fingers behind him as she glanced up at him, a sultry smile rearranging her features. "What makes you say that?"

He gently brushed his lips over hers, his breath was warm and smelled like coffee and sugar. "Just a feeling," he replied, his mouth growing more urgent, his tongue slipping past her lips to tease and explore.

She kissed him back with equal fervor, her breath hitching in her throat when he opened her bathrobe, his fingers tripping along her naked flesh, worshiping the soft curves and sharp angles of her body. She groaned into his mouth, bringing her hands around to frame his face before they finally parted, each of them gasping for breath, eyes hooded, lips numb and swollen.

They spoke simultaneously.

"Bedroom?" She suggested.

"The book," he proposed.

"Yes."

"Should we-?"

"C'mon," she grabbed his hand and towed him towards the bedroom, her open housecoat billowing behind her like a Jedi's robe.

She grabbed the hem of his grey t-shirt while he opened the book to page 23_._

"Too many clothes," she complained, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. She shrugged out of her bathrobe and it floated downward, landing in a delicate heap at her feet.

"Look," he pointed at the page as she was struggling with his zipper. "Oof, ouch." he cried, covering her frenzied fingers, bending towards her. "Be _careful_, Kate!"

"Sorry," she offered sheepishly, finally getting the teeth of the zipper to unclench. She looked at the book, as it lay balanced in his hands. "The frog. Cute," she muttered, her hands sliding around to his backside so she could tug his jeans down.

Her fingers tripped over a large envelope, loosely folded lengthwise in half, that was tucked in his back pocket. She plucked it out.

"What is this?" She asked, staring at the chicken scratch on the front, her name barely legible.

"Oh," He replied, tossing the book on the bed. "I forgot. That was propped up outside your door this morning."

She tore open the envelope and pulled out several 8x10 photographs. She quickly shuffled through them, her eyes widening with each one.

"What?" Castle asked, concerned by the dark expression on her face as she scanned the black and white images. "What is it?"

Kate looked up, another familiar look cornering her eyes, but this one wasn't going to lead to sexy grown-up time. "They're surveillance photographs."

He moved beside her. "Of?"

She tilted the top photograph in his direction.

"Holy shit," he said, taking the pile of photographs from her hand. "Kate, do you know what this means?"

She was already gathering her robe from the floor and marching to the bathroom, answering him over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner. "It means we'd better call Jordan. We may have just broken this case wide open!"

"Damn straight, we did." Castle muttered to himself, staring at the photograph. And, then he frowned, vertical lines appearing between his eyes. He flipped the envelope over. Something about the handwriting on the front seemed familiar. "Kate?"

"Hmmm?"

He followed her into the bathroom where she had already thrown her hair into a pony tail and was hastily applying makeup.

"Who do you think left this?"

She stopped, the eyebrow pencil in her right hand suspended in mid-air. She hadn't even thought about it, she was so stoked about the photographs. She slowly turned around, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. "I don't know. But, Castle, shouldn't we also be asking _why_? I mean, if it's a concerned citizen, why not call in an anonymous tip?" She glanced at the photographs in his hand, chin-nodding at them. "Not covertly leaving them on my doorstep."

* * *

**H**e sat in the bus shelter and watched them hurry out of her building, flagging a passing cab with impressive speed. He sighed, his mind easing. Kate had the information now.

And, she'd know exactly what to do with it.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the cockblocking. It's how the story wanted to go. *shrugs shoulders***

**If you would like to see what this position would have looked like, do a Google search of 100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra, or PM me and I would be happy to send you the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	24. The Glowing Juniper

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twenty Four: The Glowing Juniper**

**A/N: Please note that this chapter uses some graphic language. Because, sometimes, the F word is the only way to describe it. ;-)**

* * *

**T**hey were exhausted.

And, exhilarated.

And, naked.

It had been a long day, they'd made incredible progress, and Jordan had told them to go home, get some sleep, they'd hit the ground running in the morning.

The photographs of the compound in Texas had proven to be just the lead they'd needed, _finally_ revealing the origins of the L shaped scars as being indicative of membership in a little-known cult that had existed in Brewster County for the past thirty years. It was such an obscure cult, in such an obscure part of Texas, that it had taken them two days to finally pinpoint the location of the compound. Once identified, Jordan had booked a flight and alerted the field office in El Paso that they'd be paying a visit to the 200-acre ranch, and without knowing enough about the cult, would probably need backup.

Jordan had convinced Captain Gates, with surprising ease it seemed, to allow Kate to accompany her on their visit to the Lone Star State, in an unofficial capacity, of course. They'd be leaving tomorrow afternoon. If he wanted to go, which he did, Castle would have to pay his own way, which was no problem for a guy who carried two thousand dollars around as pocket change.

And, so, when Castle and Kate had arrived back at her place, they'd had every intention of doing exactly as Special Agent Shaw had ordered.

Except, as soon as they'd darkened the threshold of her apartment, wound-up and wide awake, they'd opted for _another_ relaxing activity instead.

One they'd found on page twenty-four of _100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra_.

_The Glowing Juniper_

* * *

**S**he had wasted no time in getting him undressed, her fingers flying over buttons and zippers, yanking his clothes off with the fervor of a Tasmanian devil.

And, so ready, so _stimulated_ was she, that all he'd had to do was _look_ at her, and her clothes had practically _fallen_ off.

Still in his hands, Castle tossed the book aside and gathered her into his arms. "Kate," he muttered, his lips coursing a path along the column of her throat.

"Hmmm?" She replied, her head tossed back, her long caramel colored hair tickling her spine.

"Where's the fire?"

She reached for his hand, which was cool despite the heat that coursed through them, guiding it to between her legs, her eyes blazing. She was wet, and warm, her body positively pulsing. "Here!" she hissed, nibbling on his lip, her pelvis tipping towards him, urging his hands to _do_ something.

Anything.

He growled, his mouth hard, his tongue seeking, weaving with hers in an unrehearsed but _very_ well synchronized kiss. She hitched her leg up and coiled it around him and he slowly slipped one finger inside of her. She moaned, gathering his bottom lip between her teeth and then she whispered to him, demanding he _do_ things to her.

He rose to the occasion, figuratively _and_ literally.

Tearing his lips away from her, he turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, his erection full and waiting. He arched an eyebrow as she stood over him, and he grasped her hips with both hands taking one nipple into his mouth, greedily sucking and licking, nipping at her with cautious teeth. She curled her fingers into his hair, grabbing tufts of it by the fistful as her belly contracted with unbridled _want_.

He moved to the other breast and did the same, rewarded by the immediate rise of her nipple in his mouth.

With a gravelly voice, he instructed, "Sit."

She climbed on.

They were all arms and lips, tongues, wandering devilish hands; and his erection was hard against her belly, urgent, pulsing, waiting impatiently_._

She uncoiled one hand from around his neck and reached between them, curling her fingers around him, stroking him gently, like he was a fragile baby bird, and he moaned into her mouth.

She sipped it up, shards of pleasure coursing through her as he grew even more rigid in her hand, her fingers playing at his tip, causing his breath to hitch in his throat, along with the unspoken cries and shouts he'd wanted to roar at her, including her name, all of which became a strangled whisper against her pale, tepid skin.

Unable to abide her teasing any longer, he easily lifted her up and in one fluid motion, spun around in the bed and dumped her on the mattress, his knees between her thighs as he pushed her legs apart.

And, she opened to him.

She laughed, her arms lying limply on the mattress above her head, her breasts heaving, their deliciously pink gumdrop nipples erect and glistening with his saliva. He gazed at her with hooded eyes and her inner muscles clenched in response, his need reflected in the greenish-gold of her irises as she moved her hips from side to side.

Her wanton gaze dropped to his fully aroused penis, and she bit her bottom lip and moaned. She glanced back up at him with hunger, and lust, and longing, inspired carnal _need_, and she fought to find the words, failing miserably, a deep-throated cluster of incomprehensible sounds exiting her lips instead.

With excruciating gentleness, he slowly dipped between her legs, his tongue searching her inner lips until it finally landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He _flicked_ it with the tip of his tongue and she cried out, her fingers crawling through his hair.

"Fuck! Castle."

He smiled against her, his tongue circling, sipping, sucking, dipping into her entrance and then flattening against her clit. He moved it lazily from side to side, enjoying the bucking of her hips, the soft moans rising in her throat, her fingers abrading his scalp as he _sucked_ her towards climax.

And, she was rising, her body on fire, her mind full of chaotic dirty thoughts, shards of pleasure stabbing through her, shooting up her middle with such sharpness that it almost _hurt_. The familiar building of blood and cum and sweat and any other carnal fluid within her body sent her to heights, previously unknown, of divine, pure, pleasure. And, for a brief moment she felt out of her body, out of her mind…until the crashing orgasm slammed her back to reality and she grabbed his head, her fingers raking through his hair, her hips bucking against him, her cries filling all of the empty spaces around them.

And, he held on.

He kept his chin against her clit as wave after wave after wave of the orgasm washed over her, and then he crawled up her body, his knee pressed against her still quaking clit, and the aftershocks of her climax slowed and then stopped.

And, she was breathless, wordless, soundless, sightless, a mass of satiated blood and bones, muscle and flesh.

They weren't done. Not even close.

He sat down on his bum, scooting her legs over his, mapping her upper body with warm, curious hands and she opened her eyes, drinking him in, their bodies humming as though synced. He scooted her towards him, his arms sliding beneath her, cradling her in his lap, her legs coiled around his middle as though they were tethered together like marionettes, and, he slowly, carefully, _entered_ her.

She took all of him, her body stretching to accommodate his thick erection, and she whimpered and writhed beneath him.

It was up to her to set the rhythm, and she set it to an _agonizingly_ slow metronomic pace.

In.

And, out.

And, in.

And, out.

She heard the robust clanging of the church bell down the street, marking time, or a union, or a death. And, without even being aware of it, she slowed her thrusts in perfect rhythm.

In.

Wait.

Out.

Wait.

In.

Wait.

Out.

Wait.

Until, the pealing of the bells stopped.

And, so did she. His full, thick, throbbing penis thrust deeply inside of her, waiting, waiting, waiting, _wanting_.

An eternity.

He cried out, "Kate!" his frustration growing, his _need_ growing. He covered her breasts with both hands, kneading her warm flesh, teasing her nipples with his fingers. "Fuck!"

She smiled, soft and kittenish, one slender finger trapped between her teeth, her eyes sparkling in the half-light, and then she rocked her hips against him.

Faster, and faster.

In, and out, and in, and out.

And, he closed his eyes, his body growing pink and sweaty, his lips rounded into the shape of an O. And, when he came, finally, at the last, a litany of words and sounds and breaths came pouring from his mouth, over and over, her name chanted a thousand times like a vesper, a prayer, a promise. _And_, she thought, a sob.

After a minute that felt like ten, she felt him grow soft inside of her, but he didn't pull out. She didn't want him too, and she contracted around him with elastic muscles, like timed pulses, a temporal shift.

They sat there, his body curved over hers, his hands around her breasts, hers at his waist, her legs clamped tightly, crossed at the ankle behind him. They sat.

And, waited.

Until, inexplicably, he stirred.

She coaxed him, urged him, her muscles tightening, relaxing, tightening, relaxing, in alternating whim.

Until, he was hard again.

And he growled, rising to his knees, plunging himself deeply inside of her, _fucking_ her, faster, harder, without thought or care, completely at the mercy of the carnal commands of his body, feeling very much like a stupefied adolescent. And she talked to him, swore at him, forbidden sinful words that only made him thrust harder and deeper.

And, as though perfectly choreographed, as though timed to the millisecond, they came together, a simultaneous release of love and want and unbridled _lust_. Arcing towards one another, him emptying into her, she accepting all of him.

Until they were spent, satiated, complete. And, when he went soft again, he gently eased out of her, stretching on his side to lay beside her on the bed, one hand curved around her waist, the other tucked beneath his head.

She teased her fingers in his hair, muttering. "I love you, Castle."

He smiled, his eyes closed, his breathing even, and whispered, "I love you, too, Kate."

And, within a few seconds, he was sound asleep in her arms.

She smiled at his sleeping face, her body drained, relaxed, her mind as serene as a Buddhist monk's, and she soon drifted away, her thoughts carried into sleep as though on the wings of an angel.

And, for the next eight hours they slept in each other's arms, their bodies curled, their breathing easy, their dreams tranquil and unflustered, legs and arms coiled so tightly together that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Nestled together in blissful sleep, they'd had no idea that sitting in a car across the street was a shadowy observer, who, after following the couple from the precinct, had called an old friend to thank her for doing him a favor; an old friend who, many years ago, had put her job on the line to protect him.

She'd owed him no favors, he held no title or liens, yet she was still willing to help him.

Lost loves die hard, he thought, as he held the phone to his ear, counting the number of rings before she finally picked up.

_"This is Captain Victoria Gates." _


	25. The Plow

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

* * *

**A/N: So, this is a big chapter. It's number twenty-five, which means we're one quarter of the way through the Kama Sutra. I felt I had to write something memorable, so I broke my own rule and went over the word count limit. I hope you'll forgive me. :-)**

**Big thanks to the fabulous Liv Wilder for helping me with the description of Kate's dress. I had to shorten it for the stories sake, but she did a beautiful job! **

**Enjoy. **

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**Chapter Twenty-Five: The Plow**

**C**astle had upgraded all of them to first class, so the flight to El Paso had been delightful. Sitting in the aisle seat beside him, watching him as he gazed out the window, Kate was reminded of the flight they'd taken to California a hundred years ago.

When Royce had died.

Had been gunned down in an alley.

Another alley.

Another loved one dead, taken too soon, for no worthy or noble reason.

Castle had insisted on helping her bring his murderer to justice; which they'd done, of course, in their customary non-traditional, rule-bending, style. Breaking only a _few_ of the local laws.

She'd been dating Josh then, had been with him for several months, and until a few weeks before they'd left, Castle had been with Gina.

But, in that hotel room, that night, after dinner and a few drinks when they'd shared some intimate secrets, she'd seen Castle for _who_ he really was, seen him wanting her, _loving _her. And she'd almost given in, almost broken through the wall.

But, there had been Josh, and her fears, and Royce, and that god damned impenetrable _wall_. And, so, when she'd opened her bedroom door only to find that he'd gone to _his _room, she'd quietly retreated into herself, ashamed, afraid, frustrated, _alone_.

And, she'd wept.

But, the next day, as though nothing had passed between them the night before, no shared confessions, no wanton glances, no chemistry or spark or magnetic _pull _that demanded they _be_ with each other, she'd pulled herself together, and they'd solved the case.

And, caught the killer.

Just as she hoped they would do this time.

Except this time, Castle was with her.

Truly, completely, one hundred percent, _with her._

* * *

"**Y**ou brought it with us?" Kate asked, holding the book by its corner as she stood at the foot of the bed in their hotel room. They'd already met with the field office agents and first thing in the morning would be paying a visit to the secluded compound that evidently held the key to solving their case. After dinner, they'd checked into their posh accommodations in El Paso, courtesy of Castle since the NYPD and FBI were willing to only foot the bill for a night at a roadside motel.

He glanced behind him, stuffing the last of his underwear into the top drawer of the dresser. "What?" he asked, confused. "What's wrong with _that_?"

She tossed it back into his suitcase and he chased her, picking it up and crossing to the king sized bed with it. He plopped down, leaning against the headboard, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of him. He flipped through the pages of the book until he came to what should be today's position. _The Plow._

He liked that one.

A lot.

"We're here on a case, Castle. Not," she waved at the open book in his lap. "…vacation."

He laid the massive hardcover down on the bed, open to page 25, and then crossed to her, his arm snaking around her waist, spinning her so the back of her knees were against the bed. "Who says we can't do both?" He pulled her to him, her breath gusting past her lips in an unexpected _whoosh_.

His kiss was hard but his lips were soft, and she melted into him, her hips rocking against his pelvis, feeling the hard outline of his rapidly forming erection. "Castle," she mumbled against his mouth.

"Mmmm," he replied.

"Jordan,"

"Huh?"

She pulled away from his kiss. "Jordan is in the adjoining room."

He glanced at the locked adjoining door and shrugged. "We'll be quiet," he promised, nuzzling her neck. "She won't even know we're in here."

Kate arched her back, exposing the column of her throat to his tender kisses, her good sense sloughing off like skin off a snake, and she gave in to him.

Again.

As she _always_ did.

"Turn around," he whispered, rotating her towards the bed while he stood behind her, his hands gentle at her waist. "Look at that," he pointed at the open book. "And, tell me you don't want to give it a try."

Through narrowed eyes, she glanced at the position and an adventurous smile bowed her lips. "Well," she said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind one ear. "It _does_ look intriguing."

He molded her upper body against him, his pelvis tilted into her backside, the evidence of his arousal hard against her back. "Mmmm hmmm."

"And, I didn't really get a chance to work _out_ today," she reasoned, loosening the sash around her wispy blue dress. They'd been warned of the heat in Texas, so she'd chosen to wear a simple button-through shirt-dress in electric blue chiffon, with filmy cap sleeves that ended just above the swell of her well-toned biceps. All they'd had on the docket today was to meet with the FBI field agents, so no need for clunky boots or blue jeans and Kevlar vests. She was in a girlish mood, so the dress seemed appropriate.

He smoothed his hands down her shoulders, over the rise of bone beneath flesh at her collarbone, and to the top button of her knee-length dress, his thick digits fumbling with the button. "Me either." He continued, halting his progress with the tiny buttons to quickly shift her hair to one side so he had a clear path to her Hepburnesque neck. With tender lips, he peppered her with quick wet kisses, his fingers resuming their course down the front buttons of her dress.

Her soft moans rose above them like shiny thought-bubbles, and she tossed her head back against his shoulder, her arms coming up and behind her, her fingers grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

"And," she reasoned, "…we won't have time for a workout _tomorrow_."

"True," he agreed, his voice a hoarse whisper, his fingers having skillfully released her dress all the way down to her naval, exposing her silky black bra, her sun-kissed flesh, the taut muscles at the plane of her abdomen.

She felt exposed, open, _turned on_. And when he inched his left hand beneath the soft fabric of her delicate dress, his right hand at her hip, a soft moan tumbled past her lips and she closed her eyes. Her life's breath rose from her throat like the gasping pants of an animal in heat.

While his lips and tongue traveled her neck, he slowly traced his fingers along her infused flesh, exploring her, teasing her, his touch a feathered tickle over her abdomen, strumming the spindles of her ribcage, his palm eventually cupping her silken-clad breast.

She shuddered beneath his roaming hands, leaning against his broad chest with all of her weight and he laved the shell of her ear, whispering, "We have a very long ride tomorrow, Kate." He plunged his tongue into her ear, goose bumps rising along her tepid flesh. "We need to be at the top of our game." He nibbled her earlobe, "…if we're going to solve this case."

She moaned, craning her head to capture his mouth, shards of pleasure coursing through her veins, infusing her entire body with heady anticipation as her wet, wanting lips pressed against his.

Her tongue delved into the warm cavern of his mouth, searching, teasing, engaging him in a frenzied carnal dance, all while his hands mapped her naked torso, his fingers pinching her nipples through the stiff fabric of her bra, his erection hard against her backside and she wiggled her hips, rubbing against him.

Their lips parted audibly. "It seems, Castle," she whispered, her mouth inches from his as she gasped for breath, her fingers clawing through his hair, "…that we have no choice but to take one for the team."

"Mmmm, yes," He scraped his fingernails along her bare collarbone, moving beneath the delicate fabric covering her shoulders. "I concur, Detective Beckett."

With agonizing slowness, he pushed her dress down her shoulders, exposing more of her flawless alabaster skin to him, and her head dropped forward, her soft chestnut curls fanning her face as he gently nibbled the warm rise of skin over bone at her naked shoulder.

The dress fell soundlessly to the floor, gathering in a delicate heap that pooled around her ankles. He quickly undid the clasp of her bra, his erection straining the boundaries of his jeans as her breasts fell free of their captivity. He greedily cupped them, his hands cool despite the Texas heat, and molded his palms against their perfectly curved shape, his fingers pulling and twisting on her hardened nipples as his lips traveled a path from the back of her neck to her cheek, to her jawline, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake.

She reached behind her, grabbing whatever she could, her fingers fisting the stiff denim of his jeans as she pulled him to her. A series of incomprehensible sounds rose from her throat while his curious hands explored her softest parts.

She palmed his erection, rubbing furiously through his jeans, and he called out, a grunted moan of wanton need that filled the empty corners in the room and sent a bolt of electricity straight through her belly.

He quickly undressed, not standing on ceremony, not giving her the pleasure of doing it to him, and then stood behind her, naked, hard, his flesh practically vibrating, only the silken fabric of her lacy underwear between them.

"Kate," he whispered, his hands discovering her lacy behind. "God, you're _hot_!"

"Mmmm, you," She breathed, unable to form a complete sentence. She threw her head back again, making contact with the hard angle of his shoulder. Their bodies were rocking, swaying back and forth, pressed against each other like spoons in a drawer and she opened her eyes, surprised when she saw her naked image reflected in the framed picture of a cattle ranch that hung above the huge bed in front of them.

She watched through hazy, hooded eyes as his hand cupped her bare breast, his fingers kneading into her skin, pinching and pulling her nipple. His other hand appeared from around her side, his fingers splayed as he inched his hand below the waistband of her bikini, to the warm, wanting, wet place between her legs.

Her body was on _fire_ and she feared she might shatter into a million sharp pieces.

She strained to keep her eyes open, wanting to watch as he expertly opened her wet folds, diving deeper, drawing her closer. He nibbled on her shoulder as his fingers worked their magic, and she covered his hands with her own, as though she were guiding him, a puppeteer to her puppet.

She was rising, glowing, her lungs filling with air and then gusting out, her body pulsing, humming, tilting towards him, _moved_ by him.

She was wet, and warm, and _ready,_ and she wanted him inside of her.

As though reading her thoughts, which wouldn't have surprised her because surely he had ready her _body_, he hooked his thumbs at the waistband of her underwear and yanked them down, his comforting hands smooth and warm over her flesh as he guided them down the long shapely expanse of her legs. He knelt behind her as she stepped out of them, and then, one at a time, he slipped her feet out of her stiletto heels. His fingernails scraping the arch of her feet, eliciting a pair of sharp breaths from her, as he tickled each one in turn.

He kissed his way back up her body, his tongue, and lips, his hands mapping a path as he ascended her Amazon figure. Then he stood behind her, the hard press of his penis urgent and ready against her backside.

He whispered, his breath hot on her ear, "Ready?"

She rocked against him, her hands stretched behind her, exploring the delicious curves of _his_ backside. She opened her eyes, seeing them in all of their glory through the reflection of the dark painting. Naked, chiseled, panting - infused by lust and love and carnal basic _need_.

"Yes, Castle. I'm _ready_."

She crawled onto the bed, shoving the book further up the mattress to give her room, and waited; her knees on the mattress' edge. She heard him gulp and a kittenish grin graced her lips. Enjoying _his _enjoyment of her.

She felt him at her wet entrance, hard, insistent, and she wanted to tell him _not yet_, they weren't in the _position_ yet, when he suddenly withdrew and then she felt the inexplicable sting of his hand _slapping_ her ass, an audible _whack_ slicing through the silence.

"Ahhh!" she yelled, surprised but not displeased. "Fuck, Castle."

He smoothed the burn with the palm of his hand. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. You're," he fumbled for words. "Your just," he caressed her some more, his fingers slipping briefly between her folds, a sharp flicker of pleasure radiating through her, "you're right _there_."

He spanked her again, the _smack_ echoing in the air around them, and she closed her eyes, moaning. She dropped to her elbows, jutting her ass further into the air.

"Do it again," she ordered.

He hesitated, unsure, and then:

_Smack!_

She rocked forward, moaning. "Again," she hissed.

_Smack!_

She rocked again, sucking air through her teeth. "God, Castle, one _more_."

_Smack!_

"Fuck!"

She was spiraling, unsteady, she had forgotten where they were, why they were there. She didn't care, didn't care about anything but this moment, him, her, together, _fucking_. "Now, Castle. I swear to God, I need you _right_ _now." _

He growled, his eyes scanning the growing red blotches on her ass. "Okay, here we go." And, he lifted her legs, his hands braced beneath her thighs. "You okay?"

She straightened her legs as he held her, perfectly executing _The Plow_ position. "Yes," she replied. "Ugh. God. Yes."

He held her firmly, and then eased into her, her body stretching to accommodate him, her inner muscles contracting against him. He pulled his thick arousal almost completely out of her, only to immediately thrust into her more deeply, encouraged by her soft moans and shuddered breaths, the rise of goose bumps on her sun-kissed flesh.

_He moved like that over and over, soon establishing a punishing rhythm, the sounds of their bodies slapping together filling the silence around them. He looked down at where they were joined, his penis glistening from her wetness, and he loved seeing them this way, their joining, their arousal, her willingness to be vulnerable, to trust him. He would whisper these words to her later, as they drifted off to sleep, how much he loved her, how much he trusted her, how grateful he was that they'd broken through the walls that had separated them. _

Her head felt like it would explode. She didn't know if it was because of the inverted position she was in or from the incredibly erotic way he was taking her.

She didn't care.

It took all of her core strength to remain in the position, her body suspended in mid-air. And, she thanked the universe for whatever genius it was that had invented the plank pose. She'd practiced it every day during Yoga, completely unaware of its lusty rewards.

Until now.

It didn't take long for the familiar pressure to build, her muscles contracting, preparing for the tsunami of pleasure that was about to wash over her, and she closed her eyes. Trying to remember to breathe.

Sometimes, when she exercised, especially while engaging her abdominals, she would inexplicably orgasm. The first time it had happened to her, she'd been in tenth grade gym class, climbing the rope for the Presidents fitness test. She'd been embarrassed then, confused, unsure of the pleasure her body was giving her, but as time marched on, she came to embrace them, invite them, _enjoy _them.

She lovingly referred to these experiences as _coregasms_. And she was about to have one now.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Castle. I'm _coming_!"

In response to her strangled cries, he increased his pace in and out of her, gripping her tightly, his hands digging into the firm muscles of her thighs, supporting her, supporting _himself_.

And, she exploded around him, her inner muscles contracting and gripping, halting his momentum as he stilled inside of her. She panted, moaning, her body shuddering, her knees bent, the heels of her feet pressing painfully against his back. The pleasure was so sharp, so fast, it practically _stabbed_. "God," she moaned. "God, that was. God, _Castle_!

The aftershocks, almost as intense as the initial waves of the orgasm, surprised her and her arms trembled, her body quaked. She was unsure if she could hold the position much longer, feeling like a sweaty mass of flaccid muscle and brittle bone.

He must have sensed this because he wrapped one arm around her middle, bracing her, allowing her to rest her abdominals while he continued to move in and out of her, more quickly now, urgent, unrelenting, his breath gusting on her spine with each thrust.

"Kate!" He cried, his booming voice bouncing from the walls as they both forgot about the FBI companion staying in the adjoining suite. "Fuck!"

He spilled into her, exploding like Old Faithful with every measured thrust, her name ghosting his lips like an ancient prayer, a Gregorian chant.

"Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate."

When the orgasm finally subsided, he carefully pulled out of her, lowering her legs safely to the mattress and they both crawled lazily up the bed and collapsed, their heads hitting the pillows in unison, their laughter a chorus that spiraled above them and weaved itself through the room.

Their bodies tangled together, lips gently pressed in a post-coital kiss, they caught their breath.

And, their senses.

Suddenly remembering Agent Shaw next door.

Kate held her hand over her mouth, her body shaking with laughter as Castle tried to temper his baritone laugh by plunging his face into the pillow. His muted guffaws heard only by Kate.

"Oh, God, Castle," she finally said, her laughter having _finally_ abated. "You know we're going to hear about that tomorrow."

He kissed her forehead, one last chuckle passing his lips, and said, "Ya think? Really? I bet she doesn't even mention it."

She rose up and pushed the fluffy white duvet and crisp clean sheets down, and then crawling under the covers, her skin having cooled in the temperate air conditioned room. He followed her.

"How much do you want to bet?" He challenged.

She smiled, her arms and legs coiling around him as they resumed their previous embrace beneath the warm covers. "Really? You want to bet?" She glanced inquisitively at his baby-blue's.

They sparkled like blue topaz in the half-light, and he nodded.

"Okay. Five bucks."

"Boring," he accused, his fingernail scratching a lazy circle eight on her shoulder. "How about we make it interesting?"

She cocked her head to glance up at him again. "Yeah? How?"

"I win, we do the next three positions in one night."

She searched for the book.

"Without knowing what they are, Beckett," He admonished, closing his fingers around the wrist of her hand just as she was reaching for the large volume.

"Fine," she agreed. "But if _I_ win, you bring me breakfast in bed for the next three mornings." She blinked. "After we get home, of course."

He held out his hand, "Deal."

She accepted it and then quickly pulled away, "Plus, five bucks."

He chuckled, "Plus five bucks," he agreed, and they shook.

And, then they kissed.

And, then they slept.

* * *

**U**p early, dressed, and already in the lobby awaiting Agent Shaw, Castle handed Kate a large cup of coffee, steam rising from the small opening in the disposable lid.

She held it up as if in a toast, smiling, "Thanks." And, then brought it to her lips, holding it like a lifeline with both hands, taking a generous sip. She closed her eyes and savored the rich liquid as it trickled down her throat, warming her from the inside out.

The elevator pinged open, and out walked a smartly dressed Jordan Shaw, blue pencil skirt, professionally pressed white blouse, and custom issue blue FBI windbreaker. She scanned the lobby, finding the pair by the coffee stand, and headed in their direction, her gait confident, an amused expression lighting her face.

"Good morning Mr. Castle, Detective Beckett," she greeted curtly, acknowledging their returned greetings with a broad smile. She turned away from them, picked up the pot of coffee and poured a generous amount into the black travel mug she'd brought with her. Capping the mug, she turned to face them. "Are we ready?"

"Ready," Kate answered.

Castle nodded, "Yup."

The trio headed for the front doors, where the large SUV was already idling, a barely graduated FBI agent standing outside of it. He nodded at Agent Shaw as she made her way around to the shotgun seat; Kate and Castle clambered into the backseat, Kate settling in behind the freckled-faced driver. They buckled up, and Junior put the car into gear.

Just as a satisfied smirk was gliding up Castle's face, Jordan turned around, her eyes darting between the pair. "Well, you two certainly had an entertaining evening." She grinned, a knowing look in her eyes. "Very _acrobatic_ by the sound of it." She turned to the driver, finally noticing his tender-aged appearance, and frowned. "Son, are you sure you're old enough to be in the FBI?"

Kate blushed. And, then grinned. And, then held out her hand, palm up, towards Castle.

Castle reached into his pocket, pulled out a five, and slapped it against her outstretched hand. "Damn it!" he complained, sulking.

"I prefer waffles to pancakes," she whispered, leaning into him. "And, don't even think about making me one of those God-awful smorlettes!"

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I would be happy to share the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter ( krdaniels). **

**I'd like to pause, on this quarter-way through mark, to thank you for your overwhelming response to this story. I am truly appreciative of all of your kind words and encouragement. This story has been so much fun to write, and it is heartwarming to know that many of you find it fun to read. Thank you so much!**


	26. The Peg

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

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**A/N: This one is for Kristy, mainly because of the title. LOL.**

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**Chapter Twenty Six: The Peg**

"Castle!" She screamed, jumping from behind the SUV. "Castle!"

"Get down, Beckett!" Jordan ordered, grabbing the detective's wrist and pulling her behind the safety of the SUV

"He's been _hit_!" Kate cried, her face a mask of pain and fear.

"We can't help him if _you_ get hit, too. Now get _down!_"

Kate ducked behind the SUV, peering around the corner at Castle's unmoving body, blood pooling beside his head.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. _

Her heart slammed against her ribcage, her mind spinning, her lungs screaming as she held her breath. _He's dead. God, he's dead. _Her eyes blazed as she stared at him and she choked back the rush of tears that rimmed them. What would she tell Martha? Alexis? This would kill them.

It would kill _her_.

Not now, she couldn't fall apart now. He might still be alive and she had to get through this to get to him. She dared another look.

He hadn't moved.

He looked dead. No one lays that still unless they're…unless they're not breathing. She choked back a sob. They were just getting _started_, had just broken down every barrier between them, had defied death on dozens of occasions, and now he was…She couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't say it again.

What would she do? How would she go on if anything happened to him? How would she ever forgive herself for putting him in this position? In this mortal danger?

And, God! His fans. His millions of fans around the world would never read another novel written by the great Richard Castle. Deadly Heat would be his last, his last work, and then Nikki would die. Rook would die. Every unimagined character he would have ever put to paper, now they were dead, too.

She squeezed her eyes closed, willing him to move, to breathe, to give her some indication that he was still alive.

But, his body was still. Perfectly, completely, utterly _still_.

_Dead_ still.

She couldn't hold it back and, like a dam bursting, the tears washed down her face leaving wicked crisscrossing lines of mascara and eyeliner in a trail on her cheeks. She blinked them away, wiping her eyes with her shirtsleeves as she tried to swallow, the strangled sob closing her throat, threatening to cut off her supply of oxygen.

The rapid gunfire coming from behind the barricaded house snapped her back to the present, and she turned to Agent Shaw for instruction.

"CIRG is on the way, just sit tight." Jordan instructed.

How was she supposed to sit tight, how was she supposed to do that when Castle was bleeding, probably _dying_, not thirty yards from her?

"Movement, movement, movement!" The agent behind the car in front of them screamed, motioning towards the house with two fingers. Kate peeked through the tinted windows at the house, and saw two occupants rushing towards them, one of them armed and veering towards Castle.

Kate panicked, her eyes wild as she watched the armed man approach Castle's body. Jordan, already predicting that she would do something foolish, grabbed Kate's wrist. "Stay _down_," she hissed, training her gun at the head of the armed man.

Before Kate could react, before Jordan could shoot, the fresh-faced agent who'd driven them there, shot up from his hiding place behind a huge tree, and snuck up behind the suspect. "FBI, drop your weapon!"

When the suspect started to turn, Junior clocked him on the back of the head with the butt of his gun, dropping the man to his knees, his weapon falling out of his hand.

At the same time, helicopters came roaring from the horizon and a caravan of armored FBI vehicles descended on the compound. Within minutes, all of the occupants of the main building, and surrounding smaller buildings, including an underground bunker, were exiting, their hands in the air, their weapons on the ground.

Kate ran to Castle, sliding in the dirt like a baseball player beating an _out_ at home plate. "Castle, God, Castle, please, _please_ be alive!"

She cradled his head in her lap, her tears falling freely, his blood leaving Rorschach like patterns in her blue jeans.

His eyelids fluttered and he stared up at her with eyes as blue as the sea.

Her mouth fell open, she sucked in a lungful of breath. "Castle!"

"I'm fine, Kate." He moved his hand to his bleeding head, wincing as it made contact with the open wound.

"You're not fine, Castle, you've been _shot_ in the _head_!" She looked up with bloodshot eyes, the EMTs already rushing towards her.

"I think it's okay, Kate. I think, I think it just grazed me."

"What?" She asked, disbelief swimming across her face. "What? But, you didn't move, you were _down." _

He moved to sit up, she held him immobile with firm hands. "Stay," she commanded.

"I just pretended to be dead, Kate." He explained, relaxing. "So, they wouldn't take another shot at me."

A sudden, all-consuming, gratifying sense of _relief_ washed over her and she started to sob, her face raised to the clear blue sky, her body jerking.

"Kate, oh, Kate. Please." He reached for her arm. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I…"

She leaned down and kissed him, her sweat and snot and tears mixing with the blood trickling down his face. "You did it right, Castle." She wiped at his face, blinking. "You did it right."

"Ma'am. Please?" The burly EMT ordered. "We need to examine him."

Kate looked up at them, laughing and crying at the same time. "Of course," She scooted out of the way, gently returning Castle's bleeding head to the ground as she got to her knees, "Of course, please. Take care of him."

She leaned back on her haunches, wiping her face with the back of her hands as the EMTs attended to him.

_We will have our tomorrows_, she thought as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. _We will have our tomorrows and so will Nikki, and Rook, and Derrick Storm and any of the other host of crazy characters that his brilliant mind will imagine. _

And, Kate wouldn't have to explain to Alexis that her father had died in a senseless gun battle, that she had allowed him to put himself in harm's way; Even if she promised to never forgive herself for it.

And, she wouldn't have to bring his body home in a coffin, present him to his grieving mother, his disconsolate daughter, his legions of adoring fans.

He was alive. And by all accounts, he would be okay.

And yet, in spite of this, this reprieve from death, she couldn't shake the feeling that this had indelibly changed her. Changed him.

Changed _them._

* * *

**S**he returned to the hotel room with a bucket of ice and found Jordan Shaw sitting on the edge of the mattress, Castle laughing, his bandaged head resting against a stack of pillows as he reclined against them, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Castle had been cleared at the local hospital, his head requiring nothing more than a few stitches, and they'd gotten a ride back to El Paso in the CIRG helicopter. A ninety-minute ride as opposed to the five-hour journey they'd braved that morning.

Had it been just that morning when they'd left the hotel? Fresh and frisky, unconcerned about the danger that awaited them?

"What's so funny?" Kate asked, dropping the bucket on the table and filling three glasses with ice cubes. She opened a bottle of Pellegrino and poured them each a glass.

"Oh, I was just telling Castle that I'm going to put Opie in for a commendation."

"And, I was laughing that she calls him Opie." He grinned at Agent Shaw. "What _is_ his name, anyway?"

Jordan laughed, "You know? I forgot." She shrugged. "He's _Opie_ to me."

Kate handed Jordan a glass, settling on the bed beside Castle and handing him the other glass. She raised her water in a toast, "Well, to Opie," she offered. "He very well may have saved your life today." They clinked glasses.

"To Opie," Jordan and Castle repeated in unison.

Jordan drained the contents of her glass and stood up. "It's been a long day. I think I'll turn in." She set the glass down on the dresser and moved towards the open adjoining door. "I'll trust you two to keep it down?"

Kate blushed while Castle grinned, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Kate promised, standing up to close the door behind the Special Agent.

She turned the lock and attached the chain, mainly out of habit since she had no fear that Jordan would be breaking through it, and then spun around to face Castle, leaning against the door. "Holy shit," she exclaimed.

"Yeah," he agreed, fingering the edges of the white bandage that adorned his temple.

She walked to the bed, tore off her boots, and then crawled towards him, resting her head in his lap, her hand running along his leg. "You scared the shit out of me today, Castle."

He stroked her hair, "I know," he sighed. "I was pretty scared, too."

"I thought I'd lost you."

He frowned, "I'm okay, Kate. Just another close call."

He could feel her wince.

"Kate."

When she didn't respond, he gently jiggled her head by bouncing his leg. "Kate."

She sat up, draping her body over his, her right arm against the mattress to support herself. She looked at him, her eyes misty and red. "I can't lose you."

He traced her jaw with the tip of his finger, smiling. "You aren't going to lose me."

She shook her head, taking his surprisingly soft hand in hers, she ran her thumb over his knuckles. "I might. Castle, I…" she paused, fighting back tears. "We've been lucky. Too lucky. One of these days…"

"Shhhh," he soothed, curling his hand behind her neck. He pulled her towards him, his lips a soft press on hers. She tasted like chocolate and he absently wondered where she'd been hiding her stash.

They kissed like they were long lost lovers, their mouths searching, reaching, their tongues gathering first in his mouth, and then in hers in a languid loving ballet. He wrapped both arms around her, cradling her as they kissed and she choked back another sob. Her tears spilled over, wetting both of their cheeks.

"Shhh, shhh, Kate. Please. It's okay." He was beginning to feel choked up too, and his chest swelled with the abiding love he felt for her. He knew how she was feeling, knew the ache of almost losing that person you loved more than yourself, and he held her close, rocking her, soothing her tears, calming her fears. "I love you, Kate. Please, it's okay."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips warm upon his neck. "I'm sorry. I just, it scared the shit out of me Castle, seeing you on the ground like that."

He smiled, gently. "I know the feeling."

She gazed up at him, her lips bowed. She sniffed, and then wiped her face with the inside of her shirtsleeve. She nodded, "Yeah."

They gazed at each other, bloodshot misty eyes sprinkled with pain and regret, but love, an enduring impenetrable love, too, and their next kiss was more urgent, their tongues desperate and frenzied, their hands exploring, tearing away the barrier of clothing that they could no longer abide.

She swung her leg over his lap, straddling him like a saddle. With nimble, trembling hands, without a sound, not even a whimper a sigh or a moan, she rose up and guided him to her entrance.

He wrapped both arms around her, his mouth finding the pink gumdrop nipple of her breast as she slowly lowered herself around him.

The silence was deafening, and erotic, and wholly apropos. They would speak with their bodies, their lips, and hands, and _sex_.

They would speak with their silence.

He could feel her inner muscles grip him and then release, grip and release as she slowly moved up and down, and his hands traveled her upper body, the hard ridges of her spine, the soft dimples just above her deliciously peach-shaped ass, the softest parts of her, her breasts, her belly, the downy mound of hair just above the place where they were joined.

And then he stroked her clit with his thumb, pleased when her flesh became a sea of goose-bumps, her measured gyrations faltering and he watched as her flesh turned pink, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body, her mouth open, her eyes closed.

She looked like a Greek goddess, hard and soft in all the right places.

Her hips gyrated with the expertise of an aging Geisha, and she repeatedly impaled herself upon his rigid erection with an unspoken sigh of deepest joy. Castle felt that he had sunk into a swamp of enchantment, with no will or memory or call of duty. He closed his eyes, kissing her succulent lips, savoring her aroma, her flavor, the heady sweet scent that aroused and _moved_ him, all while his trembling hands stroked the impossible softness that was her perfect porcelain skin.

He thrust into her, abandoning himself to the heat and flavor and intoxicating scent of her, feeling, as he always did with her, that he was home, finally, after feeling adrift and alone for so much of his life, he had found a _home_ with Kate Beckett.

He could see the familiar signs of her climax, the slippery feel of her warm skin, the flushed crimson color rising on her chest, the hardness of her clit, and before long she stopped. Her arms and legs, the plane of her belly, growing rigid and still, and then she shuddered.

Over and over. Her body convulsing, writhing, her hips circling him, coaxing every last spasm of pleasure that she could.

She gripped him tightly, motionless, wet, panting, mounted on him with her arms wrapped around his neck in the desperate embrace of the grieving, her head buried in the hollow of his shoulder, silently murmuring incomprehensible promises. He could feel a fresh set of salty tears mixing with the sweat that trickled down his neck, and he held her tightly, comforting, calming, reassuring her.

Their mouths met again, her breathing heavy, her teeth closing around his bottom lip, pulling it dangerously and then letting go, her tongue darting past his lips, over the sharp ridge of his teeth, coaxing, liberating, seeking him.

She framed his face with her hands, their mouths pressed together, and he gripped her hips, thrusting against her again, faster, feeling the quick buildup of his own orgasm.

And, as he emptied himself, thrusting deeply inside of her with each wave of his orgasm, their lips never parting, her arms coiled around him as if holding on for dear life, he knew that this had been way more than their usual Kama Sutra-ish joining.

They had just made a pledge, a vow, an unbreakable promise.

They would stay together, protect each other, love each other.

Always.

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position would have looked like, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I would be happy to send you the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter ( krdaniels). **


	27. The Classic

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Classic**

He paced.

Irritated, angry, his temper getting the best of him, he wore a path in the carpet.

She'd ditched him. She'd probably thought he wouldn't find out, thought he'd gullibly _buy_ her story of "paperwork."

Which, admittedly, he had. At first.

But, when he'd called the field office in El Paso, hoping to pin her down to a time that she'd be back, his eyes having wandered longingly to page twenty-seven of _100 Sex Positions of the Kama_ _Sutra_, they'd told him that she was with Agent Shaw.

Executing a warrant.

And suddenly his mind was _nowhere_ near _The_ _Classic_ position of the Kama Sutra

The agent that had answered the call wouldn't tell Castle much more than that, so naturally his writers' imagination had conjured up all manner of dangerous situations that she and Agent Shaw had probably marched into.

Without him.

And, by the time she'd returned to the hotel, a six pack of craft beer under one arm, he'd already worked himself into quite a tizzy.

"I don't appreciate being _ditched_, Kate," he'd blurted, his hands on his hips as he followed her to the mini-bar. They'd dispatched with the usual pleasantries, including their habitual _hi-ya_ kiss, a puckered quick peck on the lips that was usually followed by something that lingered, something that _led_ to other places.

But, not today.

She frowned, plucking the brown bottles from their cardboard carrier, she laid them on their sides one by one in the mini refrigerator. She glanced at him quizzically. "What are you talking about? I didn't ditch you, Castle."

He raised an eyebrow, his arms folded, his sock-clad feet crossed at the ankle as he leaned against the dresser. "Then what do you call going out on a warrant without me?"

She rotated towards him, looking at the floor, her feet shifting uncomfortably. "Castle."

"Please, don't lie to me, Kate."

She looked up at him sharply, her eyes troubled, vertical lines forming between them. "I wasn't going to lie. Why would you even say that?"

He opened his mouth and then closed it, thinking better than to start _that_ argument again. He shook his head. "Never mind."

She glared at him, her hand still on her hip, as though _she_ were the aggrieved party!

"Did you execute a warrant with Shaw or not?"

"I need a beer," she sighed, reaching into the mini-fridge and pulling out a bottle. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Want one?"

"I'd rather have the truth."

She paused, raising her eyes to the ceiling as though summoning an extra dose of patience, before fishing for the bottle opener at the bottom of the brown paper bag. She popped the top, took a swig and turned around to face him.

He was glaring at her, not a bit of good humor anywhere on his normally ruggedly handsome face.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tossed the bottle top into the trash, a double _ping_ echoing from the metal bin, and she absently wondered what had happened to the plastic liner that had been in there this morning.

"_Yes_," she confirmed. "I went with Agent Shaw to execute a warrant."

"And, the reason you didn't call me?"

"Castle," she pleaded, crossing to the small table and chairs near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. She flopped down in one chair, planting the bottle on the table beside her with an exasperated _clunk _that vibrated across the wooden surface.

"Beckett, you…" he started, following her to the table and sitting across from her. He placed both hands on the dark surface, palms down. "You don't get to be upset here. _I'm_ the one who got ditched."

She ran a hand through her hair, tucking it behind one ear as she closed her eyes. "Castle, I didn't _ditch_ you, would you please _stop_ saying that?" She met his steely gaze. "I went with Agent Shaw to review the interview notes from our witness interrogations. Just like I said I was going to do."

"You said it was 'paperwork'," he complained.

"It _was_ paperwork!" She exclaimed, picking up the bottle and taking another generous sip of the frosty liquid, appreciating the burn as it descended her throat. "Besides, you said you wanted to get some writing done," she reminded him, her eyes searching for his laptop, which was half open on the middle of the bed.

He followed her gaze and frowned, then turned back to look at her again. "So, how did doing _paperwork_ turn into executing a warrant? And, more importantly, why didn't you _call_ me?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, regarding him. "One of the witnesses confirmed that there was a satellite church in the El Paso area."

He tucked his chin, frowning. "What? There'd been no indication of that before."

She shrugged. "You know how these things work, Castle. Sometimes information shakes loose from unexpected places."

"Right." He pulled on his earlobe. "So, you get the intel on a satellite church, and as you're strapping on the Kevlar, it doesn't occur to you to call me?"

She studied his face, her eyes narrowing as though trying to decide on which road at the fork she would travel. "Yes, it did occur to me."

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn't expecting that. He had expected denials, obfuscation, justification. He wasn't expecting _that._

She reached across the table, her fingertips caressing the back of his unmoving hand. "Castle. I…" she dropped her head for a second, and then gazed back up at him with misty eyes. "I was _going_ to call you. I was. But, then…"

"But then, what?" He interrupted, still annoyed but pretty sure he knew where this was going. And, if he was right, how could he _possibly_ be angry about _that?_

"I…" she drew in a lungful of air, and then exhaled. "I got these images in my head," she waved her hand in front of her face. "Of you, on the ground, bleeding. And, I, I couldn't go through that again."

His face softened and he flipped his hand to capture hers, squeezing it gently.

"Kate," he started

"I'm sorry, Castle. I know I should have called you, I knew you'd want to be in on the raid, it's just, I couldn't do it this time. It's too soon after." she pointed at the white bandage that still covered the scabbing sutures along his temple.

All of the wind that had been inflating his angry sails suddenly stalled, and he smiled. Warmed by her affection, her concern, he couldn't be angry. He'd been exactly where _she _was now, a thousand times before. He nodded, "I understand."

Her head snapped up, "You do?"

He closed his eyes and nodded again. "Yes, I do."

She smiled, a sweet curve of her lips as her hazel-green eyes glistened against the fading sunlight. She uncurled herself from the chair and stepped over to him, straddling his lap, her arms around his neck. "Thank you." She kissed him. "For understanding," she continued, her lips soft and warm and tasting like beer. "It's just going to take a minute for me to get over that, 'kay?"

The crinkly lines that fanned the corners of his eyes as he grinned at her, spoke for themselves. "'kay."

* * *

**W**hile Castle was peeling Kate's socks from her feet, his thumbs digging into her delicate arches as she writhed on the bed above him, waiting for him, _ready_ for him, their shadow held a glass to the wall, trying to listen to them from the room next door.

Realizing immediately what he was listening to, he gingerly stepped away. That was _not_ what he'd wanted to hear. Not even close. And, as happy as it made him feel to know that they were finally together, he'd had no desire to _listen_ to their _togetherness._

He only needed to find a way to sneak back into their room and return Castle's phone. He'd uploaded the app he'd needed to, and, as the phone sat in the plastic bag he'd stolen from their trash bin, it was imperative he return it before they noticed it was missing.

Slipping into the room while Castle peacefully napped had been easy. But, he had a knowing feeling that slipping in while Kate was there would prove to be much more difficult. She had keen senses, _cop_ senses, and she'd know his familiar presence.

And, then he'd be screwed.

So, as he hauled out a fake beard and a housekeeping jumpsuit from his bag of disguises, his mind spinning a Plan B into action, Roy Montgomery pulled Castle's cell-phone out of the flimsy plastic bag and tucked it safely into his back pocket.

If this was going to work, he was going to have to get up-close and personal.

**A/N: Some of you might think I've jumped the shark. LOL. That's okay. I figure if Richard Castle can resurrect Derrick Storm, I can resurrect Roy Montgomery. **

**I love fan-girling on Twitter, but if you tweet about this chapter, please don't spoil anyone. :-)**

**If you would like to see what this position would have looked like, you can do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I would be happy to share the link with you. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	28. The Kneel

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Kneel**

The small cluster of people around Ryan's desk should have alerted them to the fact that _something_ was going on, but it wasn't until the crowd had cleared, like Moses parting the sea, that Castle and Kate saw what had everyone so excited.

Ryan, in addition to modeling his customary well-pressed slacks, matching shirt, and coordinating sweater, was also sporting a rigid plastic neck brace.

_And_, a black eye.

Kate took three hurried steps to his desk, concern etched on her face. "Ryan, what the hell happened?"

He glanced sheepishly up at her , nervously fingering the edge of the bulky neck brace. "This? Oh, nothing. Nothing, just a stupid accident."

Castle leaned over and peered at Kevin's eye, a low long whistle coasting past his puckered lips. "Jeez, Kevin, that's quite the shiner!"

"Eh, I. It's not _that_ bad," Ryan reasoned, his fingers gently tapping the angry black and blue bruise that circled his eye like a perfect bull's-eye. "Um. How did everything go in Texas?"

"Isn't Agent Shaw here yet? She was going to update everyone," Kate replied, searching the room for the Special Agent.

Ryan thumbed towards Captain Gates' office. "She's in with Gates."

Kate frowned. "Huh," she muttered, her gaze shifting to the thick glass that partitioned Gates' office. She was animatedly discussing something with Agent Shaw. "Wonder what's going on there?"

"Dunno," Ryan replied, tugging on the neck brace. "They've been in there for like half an hour."

Kate bit her lip. She did not like this. Not in the least. Either Gates was keeping something from her, or Shaw was. Either way, she wanted to know what was being so thoroughly discussed behind closed doors.

"Hmmm," she muttered. "I'm gonna get some coffee, Castle, you want one?" She asked. She eyed the mug on Ryan's desk, and pointed at it, her raised eyebrows asking him the same question. Ryan shook his head.

"Yeah, thanks," Castle replied, settling in at the chair beside Ryan's desk.

He pointed at the detective's eye. "So, what's the story, man? How'd you get that?"

Ryan coughed and busied himself by shuffling papers around his desk, refusing eye contact. "What? Oh, nothing. It's not a big deal."

"He won't tell me, either." Esposito interrupted, returning to his desk from the storage room, a box of old case files in his hands. He dropped the box on his desk with a thud. "It's some big secret or somethin'. Like he was on a…" he arranged his fingers into air quotes. "…_secret_ mission."

"It wasn't a secret mish-," Ryan started to explain, but was suddenly distracted by someone spilling out of the elevator. He catapulted from his seat, "be right back," he promised, quick-stepping it to the elevator doors.

"What the-?" Espo muttered, his eyes following his partners hurried path. Castle turned to watch as well.

As their eyes landed on the person to whom Ryan was desperately trying to intercept, a knowing smile passed both of their lips. Jenny had brought Ryan's lunch. The brown paper bag was clutched in one hand, while her other was hidden behind a sling. And, although she'd used makeup to cover it up, it looked like Jenny and Ryan were displaying matching shiners.

Castle chuckled, looking back at Espo who was staring at the couple, a smirk on his lips.

"I'll bet you five bucks we both know what happened to them," Castle challenged, his thumb pointed over his shoulder.

Espo chuckled, sitting down at his desk and moving the box of case files to the floor. He chin-nodded at the couple as they stood in the hallway outside of the break room. "Could've been a car accident," he offered, his expression betraying the fact that he didn't, for one minute, believe that to be the case.

Castle tapped his lips with his forefinger, nodding. "Maybe." He pointed at Espo. "But, don't you think Ryan would've just said so?"

Espo bobbed his head. "True that."

"Mugging?" Castle offered, his hands spread in a _what if_ gesture.

"Already checked police reports. Ryan didn't report it if that was the case." Esposito explained, his smirk growing into a full-fledged, ear-to-ear, grin. "Only leaves one thing, Bro."

Castle nodded, "Agreed."

"And, as his friend, it's our _duty_ to give him shit about it, doncha think?" Esposito asked.

Castle tucked his chin, his eyebrows arched. "He'd be hurt if we _didn't_." He agreed.

"_Exactly_!" Espo rapped his knuckles against the battered desk, his brown eyes sparkling under the harsh fluorescents. "I'll take odds it was number nine," he challenged.

"I'm in on that action," Castle offered, rubbing his chin. "But, I'm guessing number fifteen." He reached behind him and rubbed his lower back. "That one…" he shook his head.

"Dude. I remember." Esposito barked, shaking his head at the memory of having to help a naked, wounded Castle from his bathroom floor.

"Oh, heh heh, yeah. I forgot."

Esposito shook his head like a dog dispersing water from his pelt, hoping to vacate the images from his memory. "So. Jackson?"

"Franklin," Castle challenged.

Espo whistled, shaking his head. " Hundred's too rich for my blood, bro, how about Grant?"

"Done." Castle agreed. Checking his money clip for a fifty, _just in case._

At the same time that Kate returned with two mugs of coffee, steam trailing from their ceramic mouths, Captain Gates poked her head out of her office. "Beckett? In my office, please." She held up one finger as Castle rose from his seat. "Just the _detective_, Mr. Castle!" she clarified, a disapproving tone in her voice.

Kate handed Castle his mug, an, '_I don't know what she wants,'_ expression on her face, and then followed Captain Gates into her office. Castle slumped into the chair, the mug cradled in both hands as he blew on it, rearranging the steam into a horizontal line of white vapor. "Doesn't matter what I do, that woman will _always_ hate me, won't she?" He took a tentative sip of the scalding liquid.

Esposito chuckled, and then chin-nodded behind Castle. "Here he comes," he warned.

Ryan sat behind his desk, dumped his lunch into a side drawer, and fired up his computer, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Castle, who was eyeing the detective with an amused expression plastered on his face. Esposito strolled over to Detective Scheu's empty chair and sat down, facing his partner over the front-to-front desks. Ryan glanced up at him nervously, quickly returning his gaze to the computer screen when he recognized the devil playing in Javi's eyes.

After several more seconds of silence, Esposito spoke up. "Bro," he exclaimed.

Ryan looked up.

"Which one?" Espo queried.

Ryan glanced between Castle and Esposito, his mouth agape, his eyes darting. "Huh?"

"You can tell us. Which one was it?"

"Which one, what?" Ryan asked, returning to his paperwork.

"Which _position_," Castle clarified.

He slammed the papers down on the desk. "I. That's. It's none of…" he furiously rubbed his forehead. "Some things are private, guys."

"Really?" Esposito asked.

"What things?" Castle echoed.

Ryan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Personal things. Private things. Things between a _man_ and a _woman." _

"C'mon Bro, we're your friends. You can tell us," Esposito side-glanced at Castle. "We've got your back."

Ryan chuckled. "I don't need you to have my _back_ when it comes to Jenny. I can handle her myself just fine, thank you very much."

Castle waved his hand up and down, gesturing at the neck brace and black eye. "Present injuries notwithstanding?"

"It was. That was," he looked around as though ensuring that no one was eavesdropping and then leaned forward, Castle and Esposito leaned forward, too. "That was _my_ fault. It. I. I wasn't quite _ready_, and, well. We both kind of, well, we sort of."

"You catapulted her into the wall?" Castle asked, his mind wandering back to the unfortunate accident that had sent Beckett to the emergency room.

"No." Ryan answered.

"Fell off the bed?" Esposito quipped.

"No. It's. We sort of," he motioned with his hands like a referee signaling a traveling call in basketball. "…lost our balance, and sort of _tumbled_." Ryan frowned, eyeballing the pair. "Some of those positions are _hard_."

Castle nodded sympathetically. "I feel ya, man."

Esposito was doing his best to not burst into gales of raucous laughter. "So, which one was it? The Ape, right? Number nine?"

Ryan shook his head, looking sheepish.

"The Bridge? Number fifteen?" Castle asked, prepared to collect from a sulking Esposito.

Ryan shook his head again.

"Well, which one then?" Castle and Esposito said in unison.

Ryan looked from one to the other, and then down at his folded hands. "Eleven."

Both Esposito and Castle gave him a blank stare, trying to remember which position was number eleven.

"The Ascent to Desire?" Ryan clarified.

Esposito roared, "Bro! Are you freakin' kiddin' me?"

Castle suddenly remembered. The Ascent to Desire was a particular favorite of his. One he and Kate had practiced a couple of times. "How? How do you? Kevin, bro, how did you mess _that_ one up?"

"I don't know!" Ryan exclaimed. He tapped the top of the desk with one fingertip. "It just, we lost our balance, okay?" Ryan glared at Castle. "You don't really have a right to hassle me, anyway," he reasoned. "As I recall, you gave Beckett a busted lip," he gestured at Esposito with his thumb while still glaring at the writer. "And, didn't Javi have to help you out after you threw your back out?" He pointed at the stitches on Castle's temple, "And now, what's this?"

Castle's hand instinctively flew to the jagged stitches on his head. "That happened on the _job_," Castle clarified. "I got shot!"

Esposito sat up, "Wait. What?"

Castle waved his hand back and forth. "We'll tell you the whole story later," he promised, glancing at Captain Gates' closed door and wondering what the hell was going on in there.

Ryan stared at him through narrowed eyes, and then folded his arms again. "Well, whatever, you still haven't been unscathed by that book. _No_ _one_ has."

Esposito cleared his throat. "I haven't," he announced, raising his hand like a schoolboy.

"Well, you've just gotten started," Castle pointed out, a crooked smirk on his face. "Wait until you hit the _really_ challenging one's."

"Twenty-five days and no injuries, bro. You could post a sign above my headboard." He looked from one blank face to the other. "You know, like they have in factories and stuff?"

Castle nodded, irritated. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He shifted in his seat to better look at Espo. "Twenty five?" he inquired, his eyebrows raised. "All with Lanie?"

Esposito looked injured. "What? What's that supposed to mean?" He gave Castle a dirty look. "Of course all with _Lanie_."

"No way you're already at Twenty-Five." He shook his head, "Beckett and I are only on Twenty-eight. Which, by the way, heh heh…" He stopped himself, his eyes roaming to the ceiling as he recalled their early morning interlude.

Esposito polished his fingernails against his chest. "I'm just _that_ good, Bro."

"Oh, yeah?" Castle challenged. "Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Bring it," Esposito barked. "Whatchugot in mind?"

"First one to one-hundred wins the pot."

"How much?"

"Fifty a piece," Castle suggested.

"You're on brother." Esposito declared.

"You two are sick," Ryan interjected. "You're seriously betting on this?"

Castle and Esposito, after having shaken on it, turned on Ryan. "What?"

"You two don't see anything wrong with this?" he asked indignantly.

"No," Esposito answered.

"What's wrong with it?" Castle asked, draining his coffee, and then staring forlornly inside the empty mug.

"Money for sex?" He glared at the pair.

He was met with blank expressions.

"Doesn't it sound a little like…" he glanced around again, lowering his voice. "Prostitution?"

"What?" Espo roared

"Ew. No," Castle replied, his face twisted into a mask of disgust. "Kev, bro, it's just a friendly wager. No harm, no foul."

Ryan grinned, nodding. "Ah ha, so, you two will be telling Lanie and Beckett about it, then?"

"Are you nuts? Beckett would kill me."

"Lanie'd have me in…"

"See?" Ryan pointed out. "Something seriously wrong with you two." He opened a file and pretended to read it.

"I see what's happening," Esposito observed, his head bobbing. "Afraid you can't keep up, huh, Ryan?"

"What?" Ryan barked. "No, I can. We can. Jenny is. I'd have no trouble," he replied, fingering the stiff neck brace. "Once I get this thing off."

"Uh huh," Esposito mocked.

"Right." Castle teased.

"Okay," he looked at each of them, his eyes wild. "Fine. I'm in."

"You sure, Ryan?" Castle asked. "You're kind of at an unfair disadvantage," he pointed at the neck brace.

"Oh," he dug for his wallet and pulled out two twenties and a ten, "I'm sure. Just you wait and see," he threatened.

"I'd rather not," Esposito joked.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." Ryan countered. "Ante up," he pulled out an envelope and tucked the crumpled bills into it. Castle added a fifty, Espo added two twenty's and two fives. "You guys underestimate me," he warned, licking the envelope and sealing it. He opened his top drawer and tossed the kitty into it, slamming the drawer shut and eying the pair. "Jenny and I are trying to make a_ baby_!" He smirked. "We're doingit _all_ the _time_." He held up a finger. "Sometimes three times a day!"

"Yeah?" Esposito replied, nonplussed. "Well, y'all will be calling me Bugs Bunny, cuz Lanie and I are fu-," he was suddenly interrupted by Captain Gates' door swinging open and Kate marching out, a pissed off expression on her face. Jordan strolled out calmly behind her, her face unreadable.

Castle bolted out of his chair and followed Kate to the break room.

"What? Kate, what happened?"

Kate glanced angrily at Captain Gates, who was leaning against the doorframe of her office, saying something to Esposito. She shook her head, facing Castle as she topped off her tepid coffee. "She's got some secret source on this case, someone feeding her intel, and she won't tell us who it is or how to contact him."

"What? Why?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't know. Said it's classified. She wouldn't even tell Jordan."

"That couldn't have gone over well," Castle replied, searching for the FBI agent, but she'd already vacated the bullpen. She was probably in the conference room preparing for the briefing.

"She took it in stride. Guess she's used to it, given the command structure of the Feds."

Castle nodded.

"She says he's got ancient information on this case, Castle. That it goes back twenty years."

Castle frowned. "How?"

"There's more," she interrupted. "She says _he's_ the one who sent us those pictures. And," she took a sip of coffee. "…he's the one who put that map on your phone."

"Whoa," Castle exclaimed, reaching behind his pocket and pulling out the iPhone. "I _knew_ there was something funny about that maintenance worker."

"Yeah," Kate replied, her eyes faraway. "And, something _familiar_ about him, too." She gazed into his eyes, her own reflecting the storm that was brewing within. "I just can't _place_ him."

He positioned both hands on her shoulders, rubbing her upper arms reassuringly. "You will," he assured her. "You will."

She smiled. A little tiny thing that only curved one corner of her mouth, but at least the tension was rolling off of her. She glanced out at the bullpen where Ryan and Esposito were divvying up old case files. "What were you guys talking about?"

Castle flinched. "Us? Oh. Um. Nothing, really."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Why don't I believe you?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "Dunno. C'mon, isn't it time for the briefing? I want to be there when Jordan tells of my daring heroism."

They walked side-by-side out of the break room; she playfully side-glanced at him. "You mean when you stupidly broke cover and ended up with a flesh wound on your skull? You mean that heroism?"

"Why do you have to ruin a perfectly good story with the _truth_?" He whined.

She chuckled, leaning into him briefly as they walked.

* * *

**G**ates watched as Castle calmed her down. He was good at that. She'd never tell him that, of course, but he was good at helping Kate rise above her kneejerk responses, focus her energy, apply her best instincts to the case.

She understood Beckett's frustration, hell, she'd feel the same way. But she'd had no choice. For _Kate's_ safety, for _Roy's_ safety, she couldn't tell anyone that Montgomery was alive.

Besides, if she knew Kate, and she believed she did, the contents of those cold files would probably lead her to putting the pieces together and discovering the truth anyway.

But, until that happened, Victoria Gates would keep Montgomery's identity a secret for as long as she could. Provided she could convince him to stop pulling risky stunts like the one he'd pulled in El Paso. It wouldn't surprise Gates if Kate's mind was already churning the answer to _that_ one. Surely, Captain Gates' best detective would realize that her former commanding officer was the one standing in her hotel suite, surreptitiously returning Castle's altered cell phone.

Beckett was too smart _not_ to figure it out, and one of these days…

She sighed, watching the pair disappear down the hall on their way to the conference room. Gathering her clipboard and notes, she followed them, genuinely concerned about what might happen when that day finally arrived.

She wouldn't want to be in Roy Montgomery's shoes when it did.

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position looked like, you can do a Google search for "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I'd be happy to share the link. You can also follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	29. The Cross

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter 29: The Cross**

He gave her some space, finding a balance between supportive and intrusive, as she stood before the grey tombstone and tended to the bundle of flowers she'd brought with them. A single tear traced a haphazard path on her cheek, meandering from her misty hazel eye to the gentle slope of her chin, and eventually dropping on the slab of granite, leaving a splatter of salty water on the surface of her mother's grave.

She'd never brought him here before, never shared this ritual with him, and he felt honored to be a part of it. That she'd let him into the darkest, most personal, painful corners of her heart spoke volumes to him about the commitment she'd made to him, to them, to _herself_. And, he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, hold her as she remembered, listen to her memories of her mom, laugh and cry with her…and be angry.

Because it still always came back to that. To the anger. To the injustice that was Johanna Beckett's death. The injustice that her killer still walked free with impudence, that he roamed the hallowed halls of Congress, a representative of the people. A people who had no idea that the man they'd repeatedly elected, might even elect as President of the United States, was a murderer. And, a mass murderer at that. And, that he, in all likelihood, would never be punished for what he'd done.

At least, not in this life.

And, that she knows this, carries the burden of that knowledge heavily in her heart, was entirely his fault. And, _he_ carries _that_. That guilt, that responsibility, he carries it with him in his over-sized knapsack of regret every single day.

She'd forgiven him long ago. Told him that if it weren't for his prying into her mom's case, she'd never have found her killer, told him that when she did finally get justice, she'd want him around for it.

But, he still felt the weight of it, like a rock tethered to his heart, and, until the day that they could take Senator Bracken down, _if_ that day ever came, he would continue to bear the burden of it.

It was the least he could do for her.

She aimed her gaze towards the clear blue sky and sighed, reaching behind her, wiggling her fingers as she waited for him.

He slipped his large hand in hers and stepped beside her. She curled her other hand around his bicep, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's so crazy, Castle." She whispered, "I still miss her every day." She wiped at her cheek. "I've graduated from college, from the police academy, become a detective, found her killer," she paused, squeezing his arm, "…fallen in _love_."

He smiled at the last one, craning his head to kiss the top of hers.

"And, despite all of that. I still miss her _every single day._"

"Seems right," he replied.

She looked up at him.

"As much as I may complain about mother," he rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine my life without her." He grinned, further explaining, "It's a pea pod thing."

She looked at him quizzically, a sweet smile curving her lips.

"Parents and their children. Like, peas in a pod. We're bonded for life. Doesn't matter what happens or when you lose each other," he kissed the back of her hand, "…or, how." He smiled. "You'll always be bonded."

She turned back to her mom's grave, nodding. "Yeah."

After a moment of quiet reflection, a few more tears, a few more laughs, a few more stories, they walked back to the car, their arms around each other.

She glanced up at him as he opened the door for her. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she squinted against the bright sunlight and asked, "We've got the rest of the day, Castle. What do you want to do with it?"

He leaned in and kissed her softly, her lips warm and supple, inviting, welcoming, full of _hope _and loving promise. They parted, and he grinned at her. "Whatever you want, Kate."

A sly grin captured one corner of her mouth, and her eyes sparkled and danced with mischief. "Wadda say we go back to your place and tackle position twenty-nine?" She looked up at him coyly from beneath the long fan of lashes that framed her hazel eyes. "And, then we can order pizza. And," she suggested, dropping her gaze to his lips. "…as we wait for delivery, practice position _thirty_?"

His eyebrows shot straight up and he gasped, "Wha-?"

"After all," she teased, her finger tripping along the collar of his blue polo shirt, "we have to keep up with Espo and Lanie and Ryan and Jenny if we're going to win that bet."

"What?" he cried, leaning backwards, a slack-jawed expression on his face. "Who? When did? Beckett, how do you know about _that_?"

"Do you really think the minute I saw Ryan in that neck brace I didn't know what had happened to him? Especially when Jenny showed up with her arm in a sling?"

"Yeah, but," he shuffled his feet nervously.

"Give me some credit, Castle. I cornered him after the briefing. Knew you three were up to something when I was in with Gates," she smirked, shaking her head, her loose chestnut curls bouncing softly against her shoulders. "He sang like a canary!" She fluttered her hand towards the sky in a bird-like gesture.

"You're not mad?" he asked, closing one eye and squinting at her, preparing for the lecture that _should_ have been coming.

"Mad? Of course not! I threw in another twenty bucks for _our_ team." She leaned in and softly cupped him, smiling as he flinched. "So, let's go, chop chop, time's a wasting." She nibbled his bottom lip, before letting go of his naughty bits.

After she climbed in, he closed her door and hurried around the front of the car to the driver's side, sliding into his seat, he glanced over at her. She looked lighter, happier, freer than he'd ever seen her, and the dichotomous reality of their current location was not lost on him, and he remembered what she'd said to him once. That, even on the worst of days, there's always the possibility for joy.

He turned the engine as she placed her hand on his knee, her eyes gazing out the window and back towards her mothers grave, and he was struck by how incredibly _extraordinary_ she was.

And, by how extraordinarily lucky _he_ was to be with her.

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, simply do a Google search on "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I'd be happy to send you the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	30. The Deckchair

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty: The Deckchair**

The orgasm crashed through him like a tsunami, and, with the fervor of an eager adolescent, he drove into her over and over, emptying himself, her name coasting past his lips like a surfer during high tide, and she looked up at him from the bed with that wicked smile, with those sultry eyes, and she nearly became his _undoing_.

Her eyes dropped to the place where they were joined, her lips bowing deliciously, her tongue darting out to lick them, as she tucked both hands behind her head and enjoyed the show above her.

Seeing her like that, enjoying _him_, enjoying his pleasure, it drove him nuts, absolutely, positively _nuts._ And to clarify, that was a _good_ thing.

Evidently, Kate _liked_ The Cross position, judging from the satisfied look on her face. She had climaxed herself just moments before him, her whole body shuddering and writhing below him, a string of incoherent words rising from her throat, and it had been _him_ watching _her_ as she'd succumbed to the pleasures her body had so generously bestowed.

He loved the way she looked when she came, the soft angles of her face flushed with ecstasy, the way she held her breath, and then gasped, as though she'd just remembered she should breathe, just remembered she _could _breathe_. _The dirty words she'd whisper into his ear, her breath hot and inviting, her tongue warm and curious. He would sometimes get so caught up in watching her, that he'd forget about his own urgent needs and she'd have to coax him, sometimes _command_ him (and, dominating Beckett was always his favorite, although he had yet to convince her to cosplay _Fifty-Shades_.), before he'd finally let go and rush through his orgasm as quickly as he could so that he could open his eyes and _watch_ her again.

Even if it meant watching her fall asleep.

And, he knew he wasn't alone in that, knew that there were times that _she'd _watched him, and he'd pretended to be asleep because sometimes, _sometimes_, she'd whisper little secrets to him, the soft murmurings of her mind, her heart, musings about a case, the hidden desires she'd kept locked away, unveiled only when she thought him asleep. Things she'd never say if she knew he were paying attention.

Things that made him certain he'd hit the jackpot when she'd come crashing through his door that fateful stormy night, when all had seemed lost, but in truth had just been _found._

His erection went soft inside of her, and, gently lowering her left leg from his shoulder, guiding her foot to the mattress, he eased out of her. Collapsing onto the bed beside her, sweaty and disoriented, he took in a lungful of air as he closed his eyes and attempted to catch his breath. When he opened them again and turned his head to look at her, they gazed at each other with matching stupid grins, and, as they often did following the successful, and _incident_-_free_, completion of one of these Kama Sutra adventures, they laughed; full-throated and from the diaphragm, they laughed until their sides hurt.

And, then they laughed some more.

She kissed him, raking her fingers through his hair, and then hoisted herself out of bed, crawling over him to get to the bathroom. He watched her saunter away, the curves of her delicious ass beckoning him to follow.

But, the rumblings of his tummy distracted him, and he leapt out of bed, throwing on a pair of boxers. "Beckett?"

"What?" She replied, her voice muffled by the closed bathroom door.

"Pepperoni or sausage?"

She poked her head out of the doorway of his expansive bathroom, Boba Fett peering at him from over her shoulder. Her impish gaze dropped to his crotch. "Sausage," she replied, waggling her eyebrows at him. She disappeared behind the door again.

He felt his cheeks grow hot, and he grinned like a lovesick teenager. How did she still _do _that to him?

* * *

"**B**eckett!" Castle called from his spot on the bed. "What are you doing in there? The pizza's on the way! We-," his jaw dropped as he watched one impossibly long _bare_ leg appear from around the corner, a stiletto heel attached to her foot. She kicked it into the air like a Rockette. "...were..." she wrapped one arm seductively around the door frame, her fingers splayed along the wood. "...gonna..." he flinched when she cracked the whip and he glanced down, distracted by the stirring of his _own_ body.

The sheet was tenting.

She sauntered out, clad in a black leather corset, black silk bikini underwear and garter belts that hung down the tops of her thighs and attached to _nothing_.

"Whoa-" he stammered, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. "Beckett, you _changed_."

She snapped the whip again, the soft leather striking her thigh, a loud _crack_ echoing off the high ceilings. She jutted her chin forward, glancing down at him as she strutted towards the bed like a supermodel on a catwalk, her hair spilling around her shoulders like _pornography_.

"Mmmhmm," she purred, pacing at the foot of the bed, her eyes smoldering, her breasts trussed up, her flawless alabaster skin glistening in the half-light. "Are you ready to _play_, Castle?"

He scooted up on his elbows as she slowly crawled towards him on the bed, her eyes swimming with mischief, daring and bold. "Wha? Kate. Whoa. Yeah, I, ah, um," he stammered. "What about the pizza?"

"Don't worry about the pizza, Castle," she replied, reaching his lap and then straddling it, her softest parts rasping against his _hardest_. With warm and nimble fingers she explored the broad expanse of his chest. Her caramel colored hair falling gently around her shoulders, creating a soft brown halo that encircled her face and she tossed her head to one side and leaned down to kiss him, pulling his bottom lip with her teeth before laving it with her tongue. "I'll take care of it."

"'kay," he whispered, his tongue eagerly slipping between her lips to explore the warm cavern of her mouth. She tasted like fresh strawberries and her breath was warm, inviting, delicious. He kissed her like they hadn't just spent the better part of two hours making love. Like he was seeing her, tasting her, feeling her for the very first time.

She ran her hands down his arms, her fingers kneading against the sinewy muscles of his biceps, his forearms, before she entwined her fingers with his. She brought their joined hands above his head as her lips and tongue continued their daring assault on his mouth, and he felt breathless, overwhelmed, his throbbing erection pleading for release from its silken captivity. He didn't need anything but her at that moment, not air or food or water or work, just her, always _her_.

He was so swept away by her seduction, her _witchcraft,_ that it wasn't until he heard the telltale click, felt the pressure of cold steel against his wrists, that he realized she'd just handcuffed him.

To the bed.

He yanked his wrist forward, the cuffs digging into his flesh. "Whoa. Kate," he whispered, a sideways grin capturing his lips, the light glinting from his smoldering, hooded midnight-blue eyes.

"Settle in, Castle," she advised, her fingers tickling the soft inside of his arms. "I'm going to have my way with you. And when we're done with _this_? We have that _deckchair _to figure out." Her eyes flickered to the open page in the Kama Sutra book on his bedside table.

He half-moaned half-growled as she shifted her hips, grinding against his erection, exploring the rest of his body with warm wandering hands, soft wet lips, a curious flirtatious tongue. He closed his eyes, _settling_ _in_ as she'd advised, his body reacting to every single shift and slight of hers. It was call and response in its purest sense.

She called.

He responded.

_Crack!_

His eyes flew open, his body arcing upwards with the sting of the leather whip against his chest. "Ow. Ooh, whoa," he cried, his voice gravely.

She looked at him like a lioness about to eat her prey, impish and hungry, a crooked smile, a lilt of her eyebrow. She laughed, raising her arm and suddenly bringing the whip down once more across his exposed chest '_Crack!'_

He gasped, then grinned at her. "Beckett, you're on…"

_Crack!_

"Fire," he finished through gritted teeth. The sting of the whip warmed his chest, a pleasurable pain that was primal and raw, oddly arousing, and when she leaned down to sooth it with her lips, her tongue, he felt an insatiable need to get out of the cuffs, to take her, to touch her. He fought against his restraints, losing, of course because muscle and bone were hardly a match for the unyielding strength of solid steel. He watched her face light up at his feeble attempts at escape, a coy smile gracing her lips as she wagged her finger at him.

"No, no, Castle. Not yet."

He whimpered.

When the doorbell buzzed, their heads snapped up simultaneously, their gaze directed at the bedroom door. Kate smiled, climbing off of his body, her hands trailing down his chest as she went. "Dinner's here," she whispered. She gathered her bathrobe from the chair and slipped into it.

"Wait. Kate. You can't…"

She was already out the door.

**A/N: I apologize for the lapse of time between updates. I needed to take a week off to catch up on my life. But, I'm back now, and will be updating regularly again. Thank you so much for sticking with me.**

**If you would like to see these positions, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I am happy to share the link with you. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	31. The Reclining Lotus

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra**

By Dana Keylits

* * *

**Previously…**

_When the doorbell buzzed, their heads snapped up simultaneously, their gaze directed at the bedroom door. Kate smiled, climbing off of his body, her hands trailing down his chest as she went. "Dinner's here," she whispered. She gathered her bathrobe from the chair and slipped into it. _

_"Wait. Kate. You can't…" _

_She was already out the door. _

* * *

**Chapter thirty-one: The Reclining Lotus**

Castle helplessly pulled against the cuffs, the hard steel digging into his wrists. "…just leave me," he finished, his voice a mewling whisper. He settled back against the pillow, gritting his teeth. "Beckett!"

A few minutes later she sauntered back into his bedroom, the carry-out box of pizza in one hand, a bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses, their stems balanced between her fingers, in the other. "Hungry?" She asked.

He nodded, gazing at her with hooded eyes. "But, not for food."

She set the pizza and bottle of wine on the dresser and crossed to the bed, the keys to the cuffs in her hands. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mmm hmm," he answered, his eyes ablaze, his heart thumping, his carnal, primal desire _more_ than _evident_.

She wordlessly shrugged out of her bathrobe, letting it slip to the floor and climbed back on the bed, straddling him, the key ring dangling from her forefinger. With a kittenish grin, she rocked her hips, producing a deep-throated groan from him before she leaned down and kissed him, sipping it up. "Do you want me to take the cuffs off?"

He moaned, his tongue laving her bottom lip.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yessss," he hissed.

She drew his bottom lip into her mouth, over the dangerous ridge of her teeth, nibbling it before letting it go. "'kay," she agreed, rising to her knees to reach his bound hands.

The moment his wrists were free, he lunged for her, grabbing her around the waist with desperate, needy hands and flipping her over with the fervor of a sailor on leave. He was oddly pleased with himself when a gust of air rushed past her lips and the soft light reflected in her eyes betrayed her surprise. He pinned her to the bed, his hands greedily exploring her body, fumbling for a way through her corset until finally she raised herself up, guided his hands to the clasps at her back, and he managed to free her of the binding garment. Her breasts fell freely and he could see that her alabaster skin was marred by angry red marks that crisscrossed over her stomach and breasts. He traced them with his finger.

And, then with his tongue.

As she lay back against the pillow, her eyes burning into him, her lips full and wet, eager and willing, he tossed the corset aside and dipped his head between her breasts, his hands grasping her firmly around the waist, his fingers digging into her sinewy flesh. He curled his lips around one nipple and sucked, relishing the series of moans that came from her throat.

"Kate?"

She opened one eye, "Hmm?"

"Your turn," he teased as he rose up and slapped one cuff around her slender wrist.

He watched her, seeking her permission, which she gave with a nod and a crooked smile, her eyes ablaze, her hips wiggling, he reached for her other wrist, slipped the cuffs through the leather strap above the headboard, and bound her to the bed. Then, raising himself to his knees, straddling her thighs, he _looked_ at her, feeling lightheaded and ecstatic as he absorbed with hooded eyes, her heaving, glistening nearly flawless breasts, the forgiving curves and sharp angles of bone and muscle beneath alabaster flesh, the kittenish grin that adorned her lips.

His gaze naturally dropped to the small faded scar between her breasts, the scar that was a constant reminder of how _fleeting_ life can be.

He lowered his head and kissed it, softly, gently, with loving intention, restorative purpose, and then his lips trailed a path down her sternum, to the soft place just below her ribcage, to her naval, to the lacy line of her panties. He gathered the delicate fabric between his teeth and tugged, revealing the downy line of hair that covered her pubic bone. With nimble fingers, his teeth still tugging at her waistband, he slipped the silken underwear down her body, encouraged by the increased cadence of her breath, the strangled moans and whispers rising from her throat.

He nudged her legs open, his hands running along her inner thighs as he watched her _watching_ him. Her eyes were hazy, unfocused, smoldering, and he grinned as she fought against her restraints. His eyes smiling, their corners crinkled, his grin cockeyed and playful, he dipped his head to the softest part between her legs, his tongue darting out to the sensitive pearl hidden beneath her wet supple folds.

She cried out, her voice strangled and husky and it rippled through him like a sonic storm as his tongue swirled around her hardened clit, his hands roaming up her body until his palm covered her right breast, feeling the elongated rise of her nipple against his hand.

"Castle! God!" She gently rocked her hips in time to the rhythm of his tongue and he could taste the change, feel her readiness, her urgent pulsing need, and it resonated within his own body. He flattened his tongue, moving it deliberately from side to side, one hand against her pelvis holding her down. He looked up at her, her arms bound above her head, her swollen breasts gently bouncing, her nipples like pink gumdrops. He pinched one of them, rolling it between his finger and thumb, and she opened her mouth and cried out, his name roaring past her lips, caught in a litany of incoherent words, raw guttural sounds.

He increased the motion of his tongue, sensing that she was getting close, loving how her body responded to him, enjoying the sound of the cuffs as she tried to escape them, the feel of her breast as he pinched and massaged, her breathing heavy and rapid, her moans and whispers, the string of dirty words she repeated over and over as he felt her climb and spiral into orgasm. And, as he pressed his tongue harder, faster, she bucked against him, shouting his name, her voice strangled.

"Fuck. God. Castle!" she cried. And, he could feel the orgasm crashing through her. He held on as she writhed and wiggled against him, replacing his tongue with his hand as he rode out each ripple and wave of her climax. Her soft whimpers indicating she was coming down, the gentle aftershocks carrying her back as he slowly ascended her body, his hands roaming, his lips coursing a wet trail along her salty flesh, until finally his mouth landed on hers and they kissed, their tongues meeting and dancing, traveling from his mouth to hers and then back again.

They parted, he exhaled, she inhaled, and he reached above her hands to liberate her from the cuffs, grabbing the key from the bedside table and quickly releasing her. She wrapped her arms around him, raked her fingers through his hair as their lips met again, their bodies coiling around each other.

"God, Castle. That was…that was," she gazed into his eyes, "…that was incredible."

He offered her a crooked smile, using one long finger to move a strand of hair from her eyes, and then he kissed her again. She reached between them, taking him into her hand, her fingers curling around his stiff erection, slowly stroking him.

"It's time now, don't you think?" She asked, her fingers warm and coaxing and he could barely breathe.

"Huh?"

"The Deckchair," she reminded him, glancing at the open book on his bedside table. "We still haven't done it."

"Oh," he muttered. "Of course." He brushed his lips over her chin, her mouth, along her jawline to her ear, where he whispered, "…the pizza can wait a bit longer, can't it?"

She nodded. After all, they had a bet to win.

* * *

"**G**irl? I'm gonna _kill_ you!"

Kate stopped in her tracks, surprised by Lanie's unexpected presence at the precinct. She threw her bag in the bottom drawer of her battered desk and plucked her empty NYPD mug from its surface. Crisscrossing lines marring her forehead, she jerked her chin towards the break room, indicating the M.E. should follow her. "What are you doing here, Lanie?"

"Agent Shaw asked me to attend the briefing this morning."

Kate quirked an eyebrow.

Lanie held up both palms, "I don't know why. She didn't say."

Kate rinsed out her mug, pulled the nearly empty glass pot of coffee from the burner and dumped it into the sink. Filling a new filter with fresh grounds, she placed it in the basket, shoved it into the coffee maker and poured water into the machine, plunking the pot back on the burner as a stream of mocha liquid came pouring into it. She turned around, crossed her denim-clad legs at the ankle and faced Lanie, who'd taken a seat at the small break-room table. "Now, _why_ are you going to kill me?

"Two words, girlfriend. _Kama._ _Sutra_," Lanie said with a smirk, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

Kate tucked her chestnut hair behind one ear, a gentle smile across her lips. "Javi?"

"I can't get him to leave me _alone_!"

Kate laughed, nodding. "I know what you mean."

"It's every _night_!" Lanie exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up. "Every _night_, Kate!"

"I suppose the bet doesn't help matters, does it?" Kate offered.

"Bet?"

The detective froze, her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Kate?"

"Ahhh,"

"Kate? What bet?" Lanie demanded, her fingers drumming the top of the table.

"Well, um, the boys,"she thumbed behind her.

"Boys? You mean Ryan is on this thing, too?"

"Yeah, didn't you know that?"

"No."

"The neck brace?" Kate asked, incredulous.

"Ohhhh, Javier didn't tell me that's why Kevin was wearing a neck brace." Lanie laughed. "Which position?"

"Eleven."

Lanie narrowed her eyes, thinking.

"The Ascent to Desire?"

The M.E. burst into laughter. "Oh my."

"Yeah," Kate agreed, turning around to check on the progress of her coffee. The pot was half full, and she switched out her mug for the pot, letting the java stream fill her mug before replacing the stained pot. She crossed to the table and sat opposite Lanie.

"Alright, girl, give it up, tell me about this _bet,_" Lanie ordered, a disapproving look rearranging her features.

Kate exhaled, running her fingers through her hair. "Castle, Espo and Ryan made a bet to see which one of them would get to one-hundred first."

Lanie snorted, "Of course they did."

Kate sipped her coffee, glancing at her friend from beneath the long fan of lashes that framed her eyes.

Lanie cocked her head. "Kate? What _aren't_ you telling me?"

"Hmmm?" Kate asked, innocently.

"Beckett!?"

"Nothing!" She replied.

"Yeaaahhh, right. You know you can't _fool_ me!" Lanie exclaimed. "What did you do when you found out about the bet?"

"Do?"

"I assume you shut it down, right?" Lanie asked, her voice rising.

Kate hid behind her mug.

"_Right_?"

"I threw in twenty bucks," Kate confessed.

"You did _what?"_

"I'm _sorry_. I got, I was, I got caught up in it, Lanie. Castle's getting _really good_ at it." Kate smiled, her eyes sparkling. "He's getting very _bendy."_

Lanie shook her head. "I can't believe you."

Kate shrugged, a wicked smile on her face.

"Shameless," Lanie admonished.

"Sorry."

Silence filled the space between them until Lanie cleared her throat, her fingertip tracing a lazy imaginary circle on the tabletop. "So, what _position_ are you and Castle up to, anyway?"

Kate grinned, a knowing expression on her face. She sat back in her chair, taking another sip of the steaming liquid. "You first."

Lanie made a face. "Fine. Twenty-nine."

"Twenty-nine?"

Lanie tucked her chin and looked up at Kate, one corner of her mouth curled up. "Mmm hmm."

Kate bit the inside of her cheek. "Huh,"

"Mmm hmm, be prepared to lose that twenty bucks of yours."

Kate wagged one finger. "You're forgetting something."

Lanie tilted her head, "What?"

"Ryan and Jenny." Kate pointed out. "They're trying to make a baby."

"Oh,"

"They're probably doing it as we speak."

"Damn."

"I know, right?" Kate agreed.

"We need to talk to Jenny."

"What? Why?" Kate asked, her face a mask of confusion.

Lanie chin-nodded at the bullpen. Castle had just entered and he was jawing with Esposito. "Don't you want to mess with them?"

Kate glanced behind her, wrinkling her nose as she observed Castle's smiling face. He and Javi were in the middle of an elaborate handshake, laughing about some secret they'd shared. She turned back to Lanie.

The M.E. waggled her eyebrows, "Could be _fun_," she suggested.

Kate leaned in, a wicked smile on her face. "What do you have in mind?"


	32. The Lustful Leg

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The Lustful Leg**

"Are you scared?"

"I'm not scared."

"Then what?"

"I'm just not in the _mood_, Castle!"

He refilled her glass with more red wine, the kind she _liked_, and sat next to her on the couch, his legs joining hers on the coffee table. He stared up at the wide-screen television mounted on the exposed brick wall in her living room, she was watching a recorded episode of Temptation Lane.

He sighed impatiently.

She ignored him.

After a long day of poring through cold cases, not making any headway on their _current_ case, they'd gone back to her place, stopping to pick up some Italian on the way. Kate had wanted to just unwind, watch TV, maybe get to sleep early.

Castle had other plans.

"I think you're scared."

She spun around to face him, annoyance written in every line and shadow on her face. "Castle. I'm not scared."

He raised both eyebrows, sipping the crimson liquid from his half-filled tumbler. "Oh, yeah? Did you _look_ at the position?"

"Yes,"

"It's a tough one, Kate. I think maybe you're afraid you can't get your _leg_ to do that."

She made a face, "I can get my leg to do that, Castle."

He set the glass down on the coffee table with a clunk. "Okay." He sing-songed. "If you say so."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. She knew what he was doing. Trying to get a rise out of her, appeal to her competitive side.

Unfortunately, it was working.

She hit pause on the TiVo remote and stood up, kicking off her shoes. "Fine. I'll show you."

He grinned, rising from the couch. She stopped his ascent with the palm of her hand.

"Stay right there, buddy. I said I'd _show_ you." She shook her head, her caramel colored curls bouncing softy around her shoulders. She held up one slender finger. "Doesn't mean we're _doing_ it."

"Wha-?"

"Scoot forward," she commanded, gesturing him to the edge of the couch with both hands.

She raised her leg, balancing her ankle on his right shoulder, steadying herself with one hand against his left. "Okay, now stand up," she ordered, amending, "slowly."

He gradually stood up, his hands ascending her thighs, then her hips, finally her waist, as he rose. He kept one palm cupped on her backside, the other he wrapped around her waist. She straightened her leg, curling her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her. She brushed her lips seductively over his, suddenly feeling _in_ the mood. They rubbed noses, and she enjoyed his response, the sharp intake of air into his lungs, as she smashed herself against him.

"See?" she exclaimed.

He held her tightly, his tongue darting out to skim her bottom lip as he cautiously kissed her, a low growl rising from his throat. "I see." His voice was husky, dark, _dangerous._ She _knew_ that voice, she _loved_ that voice, and it never failed to make her weak in the knees.

She exhaled, slowly, deliberately, her eyes fluttering shut. She leaned backwards, her hand still curved around his neck. "You can let me go now," she instructed.

He chased her, burying his face in her neck, his teeth nibbling her tender flesh. "Mmmm, you sure you want me to?"

She sank further against him, his arousal against her hip sending thousands of tiny shivers racing down her spine. She closed her eyes, feeling him, feeling _them_, falling towards the inevitable place that usually required less _clothing_.

She exhaled, about to speak, when her cell phone impolitely intervened. She leaned her forehead against his, whispering. "I guess so,"

He carefully lowered her leg, keeping his hands around her waist as she scooped up her phone from the coffee table.

"Beckett!" she barked into the phone. As she listened to the party on the other end, she slowly turned in his arms, looking up at him. "Okay. We'll be right there."

Castle raised an eyebrow.

"The boys found something interesting."

"What?"

"A file. An old case." She crossed to the office, opened the gun safe and took out her Glock, securing it into its holster and attaching it to her jeans. "A dead girl with an L-shaped scar." She shut off the TV, slipped into her shoes, grabbed her keys, bag, and jacket and then stared up into Castle's curious baby blues.

He could see something there, something behind her eyes, a worry, a burden, an old ghost. "What?" he asked.

She shook her head, vertical lines forming between her eyes. "Castle," she started, looking pale. "It involves Captain _Montgomery_."

**A/N: I had intended to have this posted last weekend, but I managed to catch a nasty cold and have been stuck in my bed since Friday. I also wanted to send a personal thank you to everyone that reviewed the last chapter, but, again, I'm using the "sick" card as an excuse for not having done so. Please forgive me. :-) So, to all that reviewed, read, favorited, and followed the last chapter, a great big thank you! **

**I'll be back to form in no time. :-) -dk**

**If you would like to see what this position looks like, do a Google search of 100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra, or PM me and I'm happy to share the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter, krdaniels. **


	33. The Squat Balance

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty-Three: The Squat Balance. **

After working late into the night on the cold case, poring over every scrap of evidence, reading every report, handling every exhibit, they'd stumbled back to her apartment, exhausted but wired.

Even Captain Gates had stayed until well after midnight. Perhaps because of the connection to Roy Montgomery, or maybe because she was worried that the department would look bad if it seemed they'd missed something in that case so many years ago.

Kate had been stunned, to put it mildly, to find out that the cold case was an investigation into the murder of Shirley Montgomery, sister to none other than the late _Roy_ Montgomery.

Kate had never known.

Captain Montgomery had never told her that his older sister had been the victim of a homicide; that he'd spent years investigating her case only to come up empty at every turn.

This tragedy had occurred well before Kate had served under his command, of course, but still, it seemed odd that during all of her time working with him, all of the times that she'd struggled openly with _her_ mothers murder, that he'd never _once_ mentioned, to any of them, that his sister had also been the victim of a brutal homicide. It rubbed Kate the wrong way, and although she didn't like thinking ill of the dead, it upset her that he'd never told her.

After they'd read every bit of evidence in that case, and added its information to the murder board, they'd called it a night. But, as exhausted as they were, they were equally as wired. _So_ wired that Kate had given in and they'd actually performed the Lustful Leg, although admittedly they'd rushed through it, partly because it was a hard position for Kate to hold, and partly because they were so tired. As always, it was fun, sexy, challenging, but maybe not quite as erotic as they were accustomed.

Perhaps the bet was making things a little more _perfunctory_ than adventurous, and Kate considered that maybe it was time to forget about it, even though she and Lanie had come up with a clever plan to make things even _more_ interesting, she didn't want _it_ to become more important than _them_.

Naked, sweaty, agitated and exhausted at the same time, they'd collapsed onto her bed, curling up together, drifting off to sleep before either of them could whisper a deepest 'goodnight' or 'I love you,' carried to their dreams in spite of the lingering worries they shared about the case.

* * *

**I**n the morning, with the light barely edging over the horizon, her apartment still swathed in darkness, Kate woke up with a start. Something had been needling her, eating away at her, edging its way from the back of her brain, and although she knew it had _something_ to do with Montgomery, she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

At least not yet.

She glanced over at Castle, who was sleeping soundly, the blanket pulled up to his waist, his head turned towards her as he lay on his back. She smiled, sat up and reached over to move an errant strand of hair from his eyelid. She loved how he looked when he slept, his features soft and sweet, innocent, which was hardly any way to describe him while he was _awake_.

She swung her legs out of bed, and padded to the bathroom, when she was finished, she wrapped herself in a warm bathrobe and went to the kitchen to make coffee. They were headed for another long day today, Jordan Shaw would need to be brought up to speed about the connection to Montgomery's sister, and Kate wanted to think about that case some more. Something. There was _something_ that she was missing and it was taunting her, mocking her, staying just outside of her reach.

With her fingers curled around the blue ceramic mug, she took the steaming cup of coffee and ascended part way up the stairs that led to her rooftop garden. She wasn't going to go outside, but this was her favorite window from which to watch the sun rise over the serrated Manhattan skyline.

She set the mug on the ledge, and then folded her arms against the wooden ledge, resting her chin on top of her hands as she watched the brightening skyline change shape and color, the shadows elongate and thicken - just like her thoughts about this case, now that Montgomery was a part of it. It was messy now, chaotic, and Kate didn't like it.

As soon as the first tentacle of light unfurled itself across her windowpane, she turned to go back to her kitchen, startled to find Castle standing at the foot of the stairs, clad only in his boxers.

"Jesus, Castle!" she exclaimed, her heart pounding, gathering the soft robe more tightly around her naked frame, "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

He held up both palms, "Sorry, sorry. I just," he ascended the steps, standing on the one just below hers, her lips even with his forehead, and wrapped his hands around her waist. "You looked so lovely, standing there, against the glow of the dawn, I just," he shrugged, his lips brushing against hers, "…wanted to _watch_ you."

She grinned, melting into him, her lips skimming the rough stubble covering his chin, and just like _that_ her body was on fire. "Castle," she whispered, her arms around his middle, her fingers tripping over the ridged waistband of his boxers, "…we have to be at the precinct," she shuddered, an automatic response to his lips against her throat, "…meet with Agent," his teeth scraping her earlobe, "…Shaw."

"Mmm hmm," he murmured, nuzzling against her neck, his tongue darting out to lick her salty skin.

"Cas-," she started, interrupted by the press of his lips on hers, warm and soft, urgent, dizzying. His hand came around to the back of her neck, pressing her even further against him and she gave in, her tongue seeking his in an unrehearsed tango, dangerous and frisky, erotic, delicious.

"Turn around," he whispered, his hands on her waist, guiding her until her back was to his front.

"Are we…?"

"Yes. This is next. Do you know it?"

"Mmm hmm," she replied, her fingers fumbling with the knotted sash of her robe.

He peeled the garment from her shoulders, his lips following, his hands gently mapping her body as the robe fell silently into a gentle heap on the step between them.

She moaned, her head falling forward, the dark curtain of her hair hiding her face as his hands came around to palm her breasts, tease her nipples, and she felt outside of herself, floating above them, her breathing labored, heavy, the blood rushing through her veins pounding in her ear as she felt his erection grow hard against her backside.

She reached around behind her, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and gently tugged. She didn't have to instruct him, urge him, he knew what she wanted and the silken fabric was soon gathered around his ankles. He gingerly stepped out of them, kicking them down the step where they landed at its base.

She curled her hand around him, softly stroking, enjoying the unhurried moan that rose from his chest, the stiffening of his erection, the vibration of his body as it hummed against her, and she found herself falling into him, her thoughts about the case, about Montgomery, about the chaos banished to the far corners of her mind, and all that existed, all that _mattered_ was him, this, _them_.

He traced his fingers over her tepid flesh, roaming down the curve of her backside until they were at her softest parts, warm and wet, and _waiting_ for him. She opened to him, and he slipped a finger between her wet folds, his deep exhale timed with the sharp contraction stabbing her belly.

"You're so _ready_, Kate."

She moaned.

"You need to _squat_," he instructed.

She bent her knees and felt him rise against her, arcing her back so he could ease into her, filling her completely, her body stretching to accommodate all of him. She thought she might stumble until, with strong hands, he braced her, his palms curved around her ass, and she clung to him, her fingers gripping his forearms as she leaned against his chest.

He set a languid rhythm. In and out, and the solid, warm sensation of his body behind her was inexplicably dangerous and comforting at the same time. It didn't take long before she felt the familiar spiraling of her body, every cell and fiber, every pore opening to him, wanting him, coaxing him.

His lips surfed over her shoulder, peppering her with tiny wet kisses, and he continued to gyrate against her, the sound of their bodies slapping together rising in the quiet spaces around them, erotic and heady, spilling into her like oxygen, vital and _needed_.

She was climbing, spiraling higher and higher, dizzy, breathless, unfocused and she felt simultaneously tethered _and_ liberated. And, when he slipped one hand around her front, his fingers tracing the place where they were joined, circling her hardened clit, coaxing her orgasm, she cried out, a string of incoherent words roaring past her lips, a random lexis echoing off the walls, cutting through the silence that cocooned them like a warm blanket in winter.

He increased his tempo, sensing she was close, and with an unexpected sharpness, the orgasm crashed through her, rippling from her center, infusing every cell and fiber with shards of pleasure so intense, so violent it almost _hurt_.

It wasn't more than a minute, her body still coming down, the shockwaves still trembling through her, and he followed, spilling into her, pumping with each wave of the climax that seized him, and she leaned forward, her hands on the steps in front of her, as she felt him slow, twitch, and then soften, easing out of her.

He ran one palm along the column of her spine, his fingers tracing each ridge with deliberate tenacity, and when she straightened up, her body illuminated by the morning sun, making her glisten in its amber glow, he exhaled heavily, her name tumbling behind it like a prayer to the Universe.

"God, Kate. You never cease to surprise me."

She spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck, shining down at him with luminescent eyes. "Nor you, me."

They kissed, slow and sweet, their arms and legs coiled as they stood on the steps, and when they finally parted, a satisfied sigh escaping both their lips, Kate reached up for her coffee mug, grasping it with trembling fingers, the memory of her orgasm still playing through her body, causing her to shudder and stir, her flesh feeling both cool and warm at the same time.

The mug was still warm.

She followed as he descended the stairs, gathering their scattered garments, and they sauntered to the kitchen. "How long did that take us, anyway?" she asked, glancing at the kitchen clock, trying to remember what time it was when she'd gone to witness the sunrise.

He chuckled, nodding, apparently knowing what she was thinking. "We're getting very _efficient_, Kate."

She shrugged into her bathrobe, watching him with amusement as he poured himself a mugful of steaming coffee, his boxers still in one hand. "So? Do you know how long?"

He turned around to face her, bringing the mug to his lips, his eyebrows raised. He took a sip and then rounded his shoulders, facing her. "Six minutes."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Six. Minutes?"

"Mmm hmm, beginning to end. What can I say? We're _that_ good."

"Wow," she had a faraway look on her face.

"What?" he asked, following her as she headed towards the bedroom.

"Well, with times like that, Castle," Kate started, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Ryan and Espo don't stand a chance!"

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I will be happy to send you the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **


	34. The Magic Mountain

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty-Four: The Magic Mountain**

"Kate. Please tell me you're not bailing!" Lanie asked, her eyebrow arched with displeasure. They were having a quick lunch at the tiny café around the corner from the M.E.'s office, since most of their nights lately had been _otherwise_ occupied and lunch was the only option if they actually wanted to see each other outside of work.

Kate glanced up at her friend, stirring the two packs of sugar into her coffee as they waited for Jenny to arrive. "I didn't say _that,_" Kate started, glancing sideways at Lanie. "Exactly."

Lanie exhaled impatiently, staring Kate down, her lips pursed, her head cocked to one side.

"Okay, okay. I'm," Kate shook her head, glancing at the ceiling before meeting Lanie's gaze. "Having second thoughts about it."

"Girl?!" Lanie exclaimed, her admonishment sounding more like a question.

"I'm sorry!" Kate apologized, holding both palms out in a 'forgive-me' gesture. "But, we're. It's. Castle. We're having _fun_, Lanie. And, we're growing _closer_." She shook her head, pulling the stir stick out of her coffee and setting it on the table where a small pool of mocha liquid quickly formed beneath it. "I never would have guessed it. When he walked into my apartment with that book, I never would have though that it would actually bring us _closer_, But, it's…" She looked up at the ceiling again, a ghost of a smile curving her lips, lighting up her eyes, she glanced back at Lanie. "It _is._"

Lanie stared at her friend for a minute, a blank expression on her face, then her eyes narrowed. She held up one finger, wagging it at Kate. "It might be making you closer, but it's obviously also making you," she glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers, she leaned in, "…_hornier_!"

"Lanie!" Kate exclaimed, chuckling as she brought the white ceramic coffee cup to her lips.

Lanie folded her arms and leaned back, "Well?" she asked, "Isn't it?"

Kate opened her mouth and then closed it, only to open it again. "Yes, I suppose," she acquiesced, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "But, it's _more_ than just that."

Lanie gave her a sideways grin, "Mmm hmm."

Kate leaned back, folding her right arm and resting it on the back of her chair. She rolled her wrist, "And what about you and Javi? Is it making the two of you," she grinned, raising an eyebrow, "…closer?"

Lanie harrumphed. "It's making us _something." _

"You guys still don't know where you're going?"

"Nope."

"And that's okay?"

Lanie thought for a second, glancing down at the steeping pot of tea the freckle-faced waiter had just set down in front of her. She shrugged. "For now."

Kate nodded, sipping her coffee. "Ah."

Lanie made a face, "And, what is that supposed to mean?"

Kate looked surprised, "What..? I didn't…"

"Sorry, sorry, so sorry," Jenny interrupted, breezing into the little café and plopping down at the open chair beside Kate. "Kevin forgot his lunch again so I had to stop by the precinct and drop it off on my way here," she explained, taking a swipe at the errant strand of hair that had just fallen into her eyes. "What did I miss?"

Lanie chuckled, "Oh, not much." Lanie joked. "Except that Beckett was just explaining how the Kama Sutra is making her horny."

Kate shot Lanie a look, "Lanie!"

Jenny opened a menu, oblivious to Kate's discomfort. "Oh, I know. Isn't it crazy? And, I already had a pretty active libido to begin with," Jenny blurted. "But, ever since Kevin came home with that book, it's like I can't keep my hands _off_ of him!"

Kate and Lanie shared an amused look of surprise. Jenny glanced up at them, startled. "Oh, no, were you just _kidding_?" Color was rising up her neck as she looked from one to the other.

Lanie leaned over and patted the back of her hand. "Yes, well, no. It is making her friskier, but I had to pull that little tidbit out of her."

"Oh, thank goodness," Jenny breathed. "I'm glad I'm not alone."

"No," Kate shook her head, hiding behind her mug, "You're definitely not alone."

* * *

**T**he food arrived and Kate dove into her sandwich, suddenly realizing she was starving. She and Castle had decided to forgo breakfast that morning for six minutes of the Kama Sutra…and then, Kate smiled inwardly as she remembered, twenty minutes in the shower together, so she hadn't eaten anything since the evening before.

The conversation between the three women was easy and fun, something Kate had been craving for a long time. She loved being with Castle, but there was something special about time with your friends.

By the time the tab came, they'd returned to the subject of the Kama Sutra.

"Kate's thinking of bailing on our plans," Lanie announced, shooting a look at Kate.

"Is that true?" Jenny asked, wiping the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin.

"I don't know. It's just, what will this really _do_ anyway?"

"It'll teach them a lesson about placing _bets_ on our sex lives!" Lanie reminded her.

"Oh, right." Kate remembered, shaking her head.

"We can't let them think we don't know about this, Kate. Besides, making them _squirm? _Won't it be fun?" Jenny offered.

"Yes, it _will_!" Lanie answered for her, her lips pursed.

"Okay, okay. Fine. I won't back out," Kate agreed, palms up in surrender. "For how long are we doing this?"

Jenny shrugged, frowning, "A week? That should do it, shouldn't it?"

Lanie nodded. "Okay, a week. Now, where are we? I mean, you know, what position are you both up to?"

"Thirty-four," Kate answered.

"Twenty-five," Jenny replied, glancing up when both Kate and Lanie gasped.

"How? Girl, how are you at _twenty-five, _already? Javi and I are only at thirty-two!"

Jenny smiled, looking from one to the other, a coy smile tripping her lips. "We're trying to make a _baby!" _ Jenny answered.

"How many babies are you trying to make?" Lanie quipped.

"Jesus, Jenny. How are you even walking straight?" Kate asked, chuckling.

Jenny blushed. "I won't say it hasn't been, ah, challenging," she explained, rubbing the back of her neck, a reminder of their recent mishap. "But, we're getting pretty good at it."

"I'll say," Lanie agreed, shaking her head and laughing.

"Okay," Kate began, pulling out her credit card and tossing it on top of the bill, "A week of _no_ advancement. And _no telling them_ about why, correct?"

"Right," Lanie replied, adding her debit card to the bill.

"Yep," Jenny agreed, pulling out a wad of cash and counting off her portion of the bill. She suddenly looked up, "But, this doesn't mean no sex, right? Er, I mean, we can do _other_ stuff, just not the positions."

Lanie and Kate nodded, Kate adding "We wouldn't want to interfere with your baby-making plans."

"Are we taking bets on how long it takes them to figure out what we're up to?" Lanie asked, handing the pile of cash and credit cards to the waiter.

"Castle will know after a couple of days. Of course, assuming the three of them actually _talk_ about it."

"Oh, they'll talk about it," Lanie exclaimed, looking from Jenny to Kate. "They're _men_!"

* * *

**F**rom across the street, Roy Montgomery watched the women stand up, hug, and saunter out of the building, laughing. It was good to see Kate so happy, so light, as though the weight of the world had finally been lifted from her shoulders. He watched through his binoculars as the three women huddled in a circle for another five minutes outside of the restaurant, and then head in different directions. He followed Kate until she disappeared around a corner, her step buoyant, carefree, _happy_.

He knew it wasn't smart to stay in town. Now that she knew about Shirley, now that she'd put the pieces together, it wasn't long before she'd make the connection to the events in Texas and realize his secret. He couldn't let that happen, but he also was having a hard time leaving. Seeing her, seeing all of them after so long, it was like _medicine._

He just hoped it wasn't the kind that would accidentally _kill_ him.

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position would have looked like, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I'd be happy to send you the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels). **

**Thank you so much to all of you who have continued to read this story, I truly appreciate all of your wonderful comments! :-)**


	35. The Bandoleer

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty-Five: The Bandoleer**

"Mother, what are you doing here?" Castle asked, panicked. He'd set the table for two, the candles were lit, the food was warming in the oven, the wine uncorked and poured, and, with the soft glow of the fireplace casting shadows over the table, the mood was _perfect_.

And, then his mother had walked in.

"Why hello, _darling_," Martha started, unbuttoning her coat. "What have we _here_?" She glanced at the table and then at her son, admiration speckled in the blue of her eyes. "A romantic dinner for _two_?"

"Yes," Castle replied, scrambling to intercept her before she reached the table. "The central word being _romantic. _Which means," he kissed her on the cheek and steered her back towards the door, "…that _you_ can't be here."

She wiggled out of his grip and spun around, strutting in a straight line to the romantically set table, complete with sprinkled rose petals. She picked one up and held it between her thumb and forefinger. "And, _what_, exactly, is the occasion?"

Castle pinched the bridge of his nose, following her to the dining room. "Occasion?"

"It's not every day you go out of your way to _woo_ Beckett, darling."

"Who says I'm trying to _woo_ her? I've already woo'd her, Mother. I don't need to do any more wooing; she's been _woo'd_. The wooing is over."

Martha glanced back at her son, a mischievous smile adorning her face. "Ah ha. So, what is all of this then?" She asked, draping her coat over the back of a dining room chair. But before he could answer, an idea streaked through her brain and she spun around, her face lit up as bright as a Christmas tree. "Oh! Richard, you're going to _propose!_" She exclaimed, she clapped her hands together. "I'm so happy for you! Kate will make an excellent wife for you, darling," she waved her hand in the air dramatically, "Much more suitable for you than those other two." She opened her hands, reaching out towards him, "Where's the ring? I simply _must_ see it!"

"Mother!" Castle exclaimed, a horrified look on his face.

"What?"

"I am _not_ proposing. Don't. No. Mother. It's too soon to even _think_ about that!" He stumbled over his words as he shook a finger. "And, don't go around telling people I'm proposing, either!" He pointed at her, knowing that once she got a thought into her stubborn red head, it would take a stick of dynamite to get it out.

Martha frowned, her shoulders slumping forward. "Well, then, what? What is all of this about?"

Castle reached over and adjusted the flowers that adorned the center of the table. "Why does it have to be _for_ something? Why can't it just," he shrugged, "be?"

Martha narrowed her eyes, pointing her finger at him, her bangle bracelets jangling softly. "Because I know you, Richard Castle, and you don't," she gestured at the table, "…pull out all of the stops for _no_ _reason._"

He crossed to the kitchen, turning on the oven light and checking on the food. "Well, I am this time."

Martha hiked one hip onto a kitchen stool, smirking. "Uh huh. You know you can't kid a kidder, kiddo."

"Mother, will you, please?" He turned around and leaned against the counter. "It's been a long week, Kate's been working hard, I just wanted, I've barely seen her, I just wanted a nice evening."

Martha's face softened and she held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." She sing-songed. "I'm sorry to have doubted you."

She hopped off the stool and crossed to the table, plucking her coat from the back of the chair. "I'll get out of your hair, darling. Just let me go change and then you won't even know I was…" she stopped, distracted by the large book that sat conspicuously on the dining room chair. She picked it up and slowly turned around, "…here." She looked up at him. "Well, well," she teased. "Now, I see what's happening." She flipped through the book. Frowning. "Why are so many of these pages stuck together?"

Castle crossed the room in record speed, snatching the book out of Martha's hands. "Mother, please." He scolded.

"Are you two still working your way through that book?" She asked, her eyes alight with amusement. "I had just assumed you'd given up on the Kama Sutra after," she gestured up and down in front of him, "…that unfortunate incident with your _back._"

He returned the book to the chair, pushing it further under the table. "I, it's, Mother, it's none of your business."

"Well, that may be, but, a word of advice, darling. No woman wants to be _queened_ in the dining room so her companion can get _kinged_ in the bedroom."

Castle sighed, exhaling heavily. "Mother! Do you have to be so…" he searched his expansive internal vocabulary files for the appropriate word.

"So, what, darling? So _right_? Because I am, you know"

"Crass!"

"Oh, tish! It's the truth," she pointed at the pushed-in chair. "If Kate thinks you're going through all of this trouble just to get her into _bed_, you can forget about actually _getting_ there, my boy."

Castle looked at the table, and then at Martha. "What? Why?"

"That you even have to ask that question," She scolded, "…means I've clearly not done my job," She offered him a disapproving look, shaking her head, and then turned on her heel to make her way up the staircase. "I'll be changed and out of here in a minute," she announced over her shoulder as she ascended the staircase. "But, darling, I sincerely suggest you reconsider your _seduction_ plan," she reached the uppermost step and then spun around, bending over to look at him. "If you have any desire of it actually _working,_ that is."

He watched with troubled eyes as her neon pink heel disappeared around the corner, and then he stood mutely at the bottom of the staircase, thinking. Maybe she was right, maybe Kate would see right through him, and instead of _finally_ getting to the Bandoleer position, he'd be stuck with another night spent cuddling.

Not that he _minded_ cuddling; he loved it, actually. It's just that for the past few days they hadn't made any progress on the Kama Sutra. They'd had _sex_, of course, they'd had _sexy _sex, but they hadn't progressed to the next position, even in spite of his earnest attempts to do so.

At first, it was because Kate had wanted to try The Ape again (which, incidentally, had proven the axiom, 'third time's the charm' – Kate had even foregone the helmet this time), then there was the night they took an extended bath together; Castle smiled as he remembered the bubble fest _that_ had become, even Baba Fett had had a bubble bikini by the end of the night.

And, then there was _last_ night. Castle felt his cheeks grow hot as he recalled their middle of the night escapades. Kate had been particularly _commanding_, and the position they'd found themselves in wasn't even in the Kama Sutra!

And, as fun as all of that had been, and, it _had_ been fun, he had really wanted to move forward in the book.

He hadn't whined about it much, not wanting to seem like _too_ big a jerk, plus she was preoccupied with the case, and he didn't want to make things harder for her. But, still. They were surely _losing_ the bet!

So, he'd come up with the idea of making her dinner, a couple of glasses of wine, her favorite dish, her favorite dessert, and, oh yeah, lookie here, the Kama Sutra book! Surely she wouldn't be able to resist.

Or, would she?

His mother was right. She'd see right through it. What had he been _thinking? _

Just as he'd made the decision to return the book to the nightstand, he heard the telltale sign of Kate's key in the lock, and he panicked. He spun around in circles, unsure of what to do. He needed to move the book, but he didn't have time, the door was already opening and she was crossing the threshold, her coat draped over one arm, a duffle bag hanging off the opposite shoulder. He pushed the chair as far under the table as he could, hoping she'd drop her things off in the bedroom instead of by the door as she usually did.

But Kate was a creature of habit, and _thunk_, there it landed by the front door.

He hurried towards her, his arms outstretched. "You're just in time," he announced, hastily using the back of his hand to wipe the beads of nervous perspiration that were dotting his forehead. He pecked her cheek, taking her coat, "do you want to take your bag to the bedroom?"

She eyed him suspiciously and he silently cursed himself for being so transparent. He tried to back-peddle, "Or, eh, just, you know, freshen up before dinner?"

She glared at him, toeing out of her shoes, first the left, and then the right. But when she saw the table, she stopped, staring at it, and then him, then back at it, then, finally back at him. She bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes narrowing. "Castle," she started, clearly suspicious.

"Yes?" he asked, plunging his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocking backwards onto his heels. He was working _very_ hard to keep his expression as blank as possible.

"What's all of this?" She pointed at the table.

He gently curled his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into him. She wrapped her arms around his middle; he did the same. "I just thought, you know, with the case being so difficult, and all of the hours you've been putting in, that you might," he side-nodded at the table, "…want a quiet evening at home."

"Uh huh," she replied, her chameleon eyes absorbing him, scanning him, trying to penetrate through the façade of his lie.

"And, you have no other motive? Something you're going to confess? Perhaps? Or, request?"

He tucked his chin, "Whaaaat? Me?"

She kissed him softly, a giggle rising from her throat. "Yessss, you," she replied.

He feigned indignation, "I'm hurt, Beckett. Actually _hurt_ that you'd think so poorly of me."

She playfully slapped his chest with the palm of her hand. "It's only because I _know_ you, Castle." She kissed him again, and then pulled away, walking towards the table. "But, I'll admit, this is very," she turned around to face him, "…sweet. Thank you."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

She beamed up at him, then raised her nose in the air, "It smells delicious in here, are you making…"

"Yep," he interrupted, "…your favorite."

She smiled again, an adoring expression on her face. "That's so sweet, Castle. I don't know what to _say_."

"Say you'll have a glass of wine with me," he suggested, eying the poured tumblers waiting for them on the table.

"Of course I will," she agreed, following his gaze and then turning back to him. "But, I need to use the bathroom first," she thumbed behind her, "be right back."

He watched her disappear through the office and into his bedroom, and then he raced to the dining room, pulling out the chair and scooping up the book just as his mother started to noisily descend the stairs, a bright red boa scarf floating behind her.

He hugged the book to his chest, hurrying to follow Beckett's path into the bedroom so he could quickly stash it under the nightstand before she came out of the bathroom, not having noticed she'd retraced her steps and was now standing directly in front of him.

"Beck…" he stammered.

She paused, looking at his horror-stricken face, then at the book he held clutched in his hands, then back at his face. She shifted from one foot to the other.

"What are you doing, Castle?" she asked, an amused look on her face.

"Me? What? Doing. Doing? Nothing, I, ah, nothing, no." He wrapped his arms around the book, holding it against his chest as though that might make it invisible somehow.

She bit her lip, her eyes blazing. "Ah," she replied, then pointed at the book. "Is that why you're holding onto that thing like it's a life saver?"

"This? What? No, I, ah, no. What are you talking about, Beckett? I was just…"

"Getting _busted_," Martha interrupted, laughing. She crossed to the couple, patting Castle on the shoulder. "Face it kiddo, you just got caught. Might as well confess everything."

Kate's eyebrows shot up, an amused expression on her face. "Confess?"

"Oh, don't be too hard on him, Kate," Martha suggested, shrugging into her brightly colored cape. "He's not the first man to try this little seduction scenario."

Castle dropped his head.

"Seduction?" Kate asked, her eyes darting from Castle to Martha.

Martha pointed at the book her son was still clutching to his chest. "I assume he's ready to try again," she offered. "You know? The Kama Sutra?" She swung her bent arm in a 'gung ho' gesture, her fist clad in a neon red glove. "Get back on the horse?"

Castle groaned, although he was thankful that his mother didn't know they'd never _stopped_ practicing the Kama Sutra.

Kate's head bobbed, "Ah."

"Okay, kids. Well, I'm off. Have fun," she click-clacked towards the front door in a pair of too-high red heels, spinning around as she opened it. "Ice packs are in the freezer, I think there's a heating pad and first-aid kit in the bathroom upstairs," she pointed in the air, cocking her head to one side, "Oh, and you _do_ know how to dial 9-1-1, Richard, don't you dear?"

Castle frowned, impatiently shooing her out the door with a wave of his hand, "Ha ha, very funny. Goodnight, Mother."

When the door had closed behind her, he turned to look at Beckett, one eye closed in preparation for the lecture he was sure to get. He was surprised when all she did was bite the inside of her cheek, her eyes smiling at him.

"Look, Kate. I was just…"

She shook her head, reaching for the book. "You don't need to explain, Castle."

"I don't'?"

Her curls bounced softly as she nodded. "No,"

"So, you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know," he glanced at the front door, "…mother insinuated you wouldn't take kindly to being _seduced_ for…"

She closed the space between them, placing one finger over his lips. "Castle," she started, gazing at him with a crooked smile. "I _like_ being seduced by you."

"You do?"

She nodded, dropping her gaze to his lips in that way she does, that way that makes him want her, that makes him want her in that _knowing_ way, that _Biblical_ way. He mumbled, something incoherent and stupid, but it must have been sweet, too, because she smiled and then kissed him, her fingers tripping along his ribcage before fingering the collar of his shirt, and her tongue went exploring, eager and wanton, _seductive_.

When they eventually parted, he took a deep breath, rubbing his lips with the fingers of both hands. "So?" he glanced at the book she'd tucked under her arm, one eyebrow cocked.

She gave him a crooked smile, un-tucking the book and flipping through the pages. "Okay. But, let's try number eleven again. I kinda liked that one."

He frowned; this was the third time in as many days that she'd steered him away from their current position. "Beckett," he started, vertical lines etched between his eyes, "what is going on with you and this position?"

She fingered the edge of the book, not meeting his gaze. "What? Nothing."

"Kate."

"What? I just wanted to try this one," she showed him the picture of the couple performing the Ascent to Desire, "…again. What's wrong with that?"

He took the book out of her hands and turned to page 35. "There's nothing wrong with that. I loved that position, too. And, if you want to do it again," he grinned, "I'm game. But, first." He held the opened book up to her. "The Bandoleer."

She frowned, her shoulders slumping. He closed the book with a thud and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Kate," he bellowed his hands on his hips. "What is going _on_?"

She patted his chest, still not meeting his eyes, her gaze focused on the vee of his shirt. He could see she was struggling with something, could almost hear the gears in her brain whirring and grinding. He held his breath, kept his tongue, giving her the space she needed to properly reply. And, then he could see her make a decision, noticed the familiar look of resolve sweep her features, and she finally met his stare, her eyes glistening, flecks of gold floating among the green.

"Castle," she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She reached for his hand. "I have something to tell you."

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position would have looked like, do a Google search of 100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra, or PM me and I am happy to share the link with you. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels).**


	36. The Propeller

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty-Six: The Propeller**

**A/N: I highly suggest you look up this position before reading the story. It will, ah, give you a much better visual than I can describe. LOL. FF Net won't allow me to post the website, but if you do a Google search for 100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra, you should find the correct site. If not, let me know, and I'll send you the link. **

* * *

"I think we should turn the tables on _them_," Castle suggested, tucking his hand beneath his head and glancing sideways at Beckett. They were stretched out in his bed, the afterglow of The Bandoleer lingering between them, their bodies still humming and warm, covered in a thin layer of sweat. "It's just," he curled his fist and pumped it into the air above his head, "…_mean_. Beckett, It's _mean_ what you three did," he finished; emphasizing his point so vigorously that the whole bed shook.

Kate rolled onto her side and propped her head in one hand, using the other to pat him reassuringly on the chest. "Castle," she soothed. "…it was harmless," she traced a lazy circle around his nipple. "Lanie just thought…"

"Oh, and don't think I'm not going to have something to say to Lanie," he warned. "I'm gonna have _plenty to say to Lanie." _

"Castle," Kate protested. "No, you can't say anything to Lanie until after I get a chance to, ah, you know…"

"Tell her of your total betrayal?"

She swatted him, "Hey!"

"I'm teasing." He grinned. "You did the right thing, you know. Telling me of the devious plan you three came up with."

She arched an eyebrow, "I did, huh?"

He laced his fingers with hers, bringing them to his lips so he could softly kiss the back of her hand. He inhaled. She smelled salty and sweet at the same time, and he closed his eyes, relishing her feminine scent. "Of course you did."

She coiled one leg around him, snuggling closer. "To be honest, I was never really comfortable with the idea in the first place." She pressed her lips against his shoulder. "Although, I did kind of like the idea of messing with you," she laughed, glancing up at him.

He shook his head. "Mean."

She went back to tracing circle eights around his nipple. "Is it any meaner than taking bets on our sex life?"

"That's different."

She chuckled. "How is that different?"

"Well, for starters, you were _in_ on the bet!" He held up a staying palm when she opened her mouth to speak. "And, secondly, we aren't trying to change your _behavior_."

She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him with incredulity. "Are you kidding me? If I hadn't found out about the bet,"

"And joined in…" he interrupted.

"Fine. Yes. And, joined in," she acquiesced. "You would have been doing everything you could to get us to…" she searched for the right words "…_screw_ our way through that book."

"Kate!" He laughed, surprised by her bluntness.

"Well, it's true, isn't it? You'd have been pushing me to bend and fold and twist my way through the Kama Sutra as fast as we could, without telling me why. Right?"

"Kate. I. Wait. Look," he stuttered, rubbing his palm up her thigh. "…maybe I would have been a bit more _eager_ about it, yes. But, you know that I would never ask you to do anything you didn't _want_ to do."

She smiled, rubbing his chin with the pad of her thumb. "Yes. I know that." She kissed him, nibbling on his bottom lip before letting go.

"And," he continued, his voice a low growl, "…you were _in_ on the bet."

"And, I was in on the bet," she agreed, rolling on top of him, pleased when she felt his _immediate _response.

He groaned, then moaned, kissing her with an urgency that belied the fact that they'd just spent the last hour making love. Coiling themselves around each other, they were all roaming hands and desperate tongues, his lips pressed against the soft rise of her throat, her hands mapping a path down his chest, over the ladder of his ribcage, the soft pouch at his belly, before curling around his erection, coaxing him to his _full_ arousal.

"Mmmm, Kate," he whispered, his heart racing.

She purred. "Ready to tackle number thirty-six?"

* * *

"**W**ell, you have to scoot closer!" she ordered, laughing as he tried to shimmy his body further up hers so that his feet were on either side of her head. The Propeller position required him to lie on top of her, front to front, but spun around so that his head was at her feet and vice versa.

How he was supposed to _enter_ her in this position, however, was still a mystery.

"Kate, I'm too tall!" he laughed.

She ran her hands up the back of his thighs, palming the ample curve of his ass before playfully slapping it. "I don't think it's your height that's the problem," she joked.

He grunted, wiggling his hips, attempting to get into the right position, until she reached between them and grabbed hold of him. He gasped as her warm fingers curled around him, _stroking_ him, guiding him into her.

He felt clumsy and uncoordinated, and was relieved when he felt her inner muscles grip him. He wasn't able to move in and out of her, so he circled his hips instead. But, the lack of moans or whispers, or 'oh God's' coming from her was all the evidence he needed that this was not his favorite Kama Sutra position.

"Kate," he grunted after a minute or two of trying.

"Hmmm?" she replied.

"We don't have to, ah, you know, _come_ in this position for it to…"

"Count?" she interrupted.

"Right," he finished; attempting to adjust himself so he could _fulfill_ her more deeply, but feeling more like an inexperienced adolescent instead.

"No, I don't think so."

"Good," he replied, easing out of her and then raising his hips.

"Geez, Castle!" She exclaimed, laughing, holding up one hand to shield her eyes from his backside. "Not exactly the sexiest view I have here."

"Sorry, sorry," he replied, getting on his hands and knees and spinning around to face her. His forehead was dotted with tiny beads of sweat and his cheeks were flushed, his lips pursed. "Whoever came up with that position either has the longest _unit_ in the world, or lacks a fundamental understanding of the male anatomy!"

She reached for his face, pulling him in for a kiss, even as choked laughter continued to bubble from her lips. "At least we gave it the old college try," she comforted.

With a crinkle in his eye, he matched her gaze, his lips curved into a sideways grin. "Wadda say we just do it the old fashioned way?"

She scooted down the bed, opening her legs to him, coiling one of them around his waist. "Mmmmm, I _like_ that idea."

**A/N: I know, I know. But, you try coming up with 100 ways to describe an orgasm and then tell me how easy it is. LOL. I'd rather leave you wanting more than saying "WTF was ****_that_****?" (Which, you may already be saying, I suppose). I'm still having a ton of fun with this story, I hope you are too. Thanks for all of your kind words, fave's, follows, and silent reads. Makes me happy knowing others like this as much as I do. :-)**


	37. The Rock 'N Roller

**100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Rock 'N Roller**

She awoke in a panic, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body, sharp pains stabbing through her belly, her head thumping, her heart racing. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, looking behind her for Castle, but finding an empty mattress instead.

Oh, yeah.

He was sleeping on the couch.

She wiped her forehead with the palm of her hand, bending at the waist to stave off the nausea. When it passed, she stood up and shuffled to the bathroom, audibly cursing Baba Fett when her toe caught the end of his boot, the _fuck!_ that fell out of her mouth echoing from the expensively tiled walls as she lurched towards the sink.

She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands beneath the cool flow of water, splashing it on her face, relishing it's medicinal properties as it streamed like a splintering river down her neck. She took several deep, steadying breaths, felt her heart rate calm down, her breathing return to normal and she dared a look at her reflection in the mirror.

She was ghostly pale, dark circles skirting the fragile skin beneath her eyes, her hair hung limply along her face, and she had the posture of a ninety-year old with osteoporosis. She snatched a tissue from the Kleenex Kozy and blew her nose, tossing the clump of Kleenex into the wastebasket before returning to stare at her reflection in the mirror, startled when she saw Castle standing behind her.

She spun around. "I'm sorry, Castle, did I wake you?"

"No, no," he replied, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. "Are you feeling any better?"

She closed her eyes, swaying back and forth, the coolness of his hand soothing her tepid skin. "Not really."

"Beckett, you're shirt is soaked through. Here," he tugged at the hem of her t-shirt. "Arms up."

She dutifully raised her arms and he lifted the pajama top up and over her head, a shiver raced through her and she hugged herself tightly. He ran into the bedroom and was back with one of his clean t-shirts. He eased her into it and then gathered her into his arms, rubbing her shoulders to try and warm her up. "Let's get you back into bed."

She shook her head, "I have to pee."

He rubbed her back. "Okay, you pee, I'm going to go make you some tea and get some Ibuprofen. Think you can keep some toast down?"

She nodded. "Maybe." But, the thought of eating anything made her stomach churn uncomfortably, and she closed her eyes and swallowed. Hoping to stave off a fresh wave of nausea.

When she was finally done in the bathroom, she flushed, washed her hands, and then shuffled back into the bedroom, _his_ bedroom. He'd given it up for her, relocating himself to the couch so she could get well after coming down with the flu two days ago. She'd offered to go home to her own bed, but he'd insisted on taking care of her, and she'd been too weak to argue. Besides, she kind of liked his attention. No one had taken care of her like this since her mother had died. It was nice. And, she loved him for it.

She crawled back under the covers, curling into a fetal position, the warm duvet pulled all the way up to her ear. Inexplicably, she fell directly to sleep, gentle snores rising from her throat.

Hazy dreams invaded her mind as she dozed, disturbing recurring images of death and mayhem, chaotic crime scenes in which she couldn't get past the yellow tape to investigate. And, always, _always_, a dark figure in the background, staring at her, watching her, and she could never get close enough to see who he was or what he wanted.

"Kate," he'd said, motioning to her, his voice familiar but just past her memory. She'd tried to get to him, but she couldn't lift the tape over her head to get to him, every time she'd tried, it had snapped back in place just as she was going beneath it.

"Kate."

She could see Esposito, but he seemed unconcerned with her plight, glancing at her over his shoulder, but not moving to help her.

"Kate, wake up."

She opened her eyes. The room was dimly lit; Castle was there with a mug of steaming tea.

"Can you sit up?"

She blinked, moaning, wiping the bit of drool that had pooled at the corner of her mouth, leaving a small wet spot on the pillowcase. "Yes,"

"Here, put this under your tongue." He stuck a digital thermometer in her mouth and waited for it to beep. He frowned when he looked at the display. "Uff. 101.3, that's still pretty high, Kate."

"No wonder I feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck," she whispered, rubbing her eyes with the heels of both hands before raking her fingers through her hair.

"Here," he slipped a piece of toast in her hand, "Eat a little of this, then I'll give you some Ibuprofen, okay?"

She nibbled on the toast, her eyes closed, her head, feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds, rolling backwards against the padded headboard. "Kay," she muttered.

He eased onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly and she opened one eye to look at him, "You should be careful, Castle. I don't want you getting sick."

"Shhhh, don't worry about that. I'm getting plenty of Vitamin C and washing my hands every time I leave this room."

She smiled. "You're so good to me. I'm sorry we're losing out on valuable Kama Sutra time."

He chuckled, "Take these." He dropped two Ibuprofen tablets into the palm of her hand and handed her a glass of water. "The Rock N Roller position can wait, Beckett. Right now, all I want is for you to get better."

"But, the _bet_," she apologized.

"Eh, screw the bet. Now please, take your pills."

She popped them into her mouth and swallowed, taking a few sips of water to wash them down. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and burped. "Ooh, sorry."

He chuckled. "S'okay. You want to lie back down?"

She nodded.

He rose from the bed just as she scooted down so her body was flat against the mattress, her head, throbbing and stuffed-up, propped up by the soft pillow. He tucked her in, caressed her cheek, and left the steaming mug of tea on the bedside table. He pointed at it. "It's on a mug warmer, so it'll stay hot. Here when you want it. Kay?"

"Thank you, Castle," she answered feebly, already feeling herself drift off into unconsciousness, she heard him pad out of the room, closing the door behind him, and within seconds, darkness enveloped her.

As she slowly tumbled into her dreams, a dark figure loomed just on the other side of consciousness, waiting for her to identify him, to _remember _him.

Which she would do. Eventually.

* * *

**T**he sun poured in through the long window of Castle's bedroom, and Kate blinked her eyes open, raising one hand to shield them against the stream of light. She rolled away from the window, towards Castle's side of the bed.

It was empty.

She forced herself to sit up, wincing against the soft pounding in her head. She yawned, coughed, blew her nose, and then looked around. The room was empty, the loft quiet, and Kate pressed her hands against her face, softly moaning.

In spite of the headache, she was feeling a little better, grateful that the body aches and shivers were gone. She threw back the covers and lumbered out of bed, heading for the bathroom, her stomach rumbling with hunger. She saw this as a positive sign, given she hadn't been able to keep anything except half a piece of toast down over the past sixty hours.

Kate looked at her reflection in the mirror and groaned, the woman staring blankly back at her looking as gaunt and haunted as she felt. She ran her tongue over the ridge of her teeth, grimacing at the film of _ugh _that covered them_. _She stunk, too, a slightly sour-sweet smell that permeated the rest of the bedroom as well; and as unpleasant as it was, she was too tired, too _weak_, to do anything about it.

When she finished up in the bathroom, she shuffled back to the bedroom and was startled to find Martha bustling into the room with a tray of coffee, tea, and toast. She stopped in her tracks. "Martha."

"Oh, Kate!" Martha blurted, setting the tray on the bureau. "How are you feeling, dear?" She hurried over to the ailing detective and felt her forehead with the back of her hand.

"A little better," Kate replied, glancing through the open bedroom door for Castle. "Where's…?"

"Richard?" Martha finished. "Oh, he had to run out for a bit. Alexis was in a car accident," she held up a staying palm when she saw the alarm in Kate's eyes. "Just a fender bender, but she needed a ride. Something about a flat tire." She rolled her wrist. "He should be home soon."

"Oh," Kate replied, walking to the edge of the bed and plopping down, her shoulders slumping forward as she struggled to sit upright.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted coffee or tea, or what. So, I brought both. And, a little toast. And," she smiled at Kate, "Richard wanted you to take some more Ibuprofen. Keep your fever down."

Kate managed a weak smile for Castle's mother. "Thank you, Martha. That's really sweet of you."

Martha nodded, bowing slightly. "Darling, if you don't mind my saying so, you look like hell."

Kate laughed, bobbing her head as her hands lay limply in her lap, her stringy hair falling like a curtain around her face. "I feel like hell."

Martha reached for the younger woman, curling her fingers around Kate's bicep. "Come along, dear. I'm going to draw you a nice hot bath, you can have your tea, or coffee, in there."

"Oh, Martha. I don't want you to go to any trouble, I'll be…"

"Oh tish," Martha interrupted with a wave of her hand. "It's no trouble."

Kate was too tired to argue, and as Martha filled the massive tub with water and bubbles, Kate sat mutely on the closed toilet seat, sipping the warm tea, relishing the soothing liquid as it calmed her angry sore throat. When the bath was ready, Kate undressed and Martha held her hand as she stepped into the tub, she then gathered Kate's clothing and threw them into the hamper. "I'll have Richard stop by your place and pick up some clean pajamas. In the meantime, you can wear one of his shirts," she draped a flannel shirt over the hamper. "...and I'll put fresh linen on the bed for you."

Kate nodded, closing her eyes, sinking into the tub. The hot water felt so good against her skin and she threw Martha a grateful glance. "Thank you so much, Martha. This feels amazing."

Martha smiled, placing a folded towel on the ledge of the bathtub. "It's my pleasure, dear," she grinned, patting the edge of the tub. "That's what mothers are for."

Martha was barely out of the bathroom before Kate burst into tears, partly at the _mothers_ comment, but partly out of sheer gratitude for Martha's ministrations. Between Castle and his mother, Kate hadn't been so well cared for in years. She'd forgotten what it felt like. She covered her face with her hands and cried, sinking deeper into the tub as she felt the long familiar grief wash over her. This happened sometimes. You never get over losing someone you love so much; you only learn how to live with the grief, accepting that sometimes it will bubble to the surface at the most unexpected of times.

Like now.

* * *

**H**e was there, ominous yet familiar, standing on the edge of the crime scene, but she couldn't get to him and it _haunted_ her. Every time she tried to get through the barricade she was prevented from doing so, either by people she couldn't seem to get around or crime scene tape that enveloped her like magical vines entangling her feet and hands. But, she was aware of him drifting in the background, beckoning to her, whispering her name, pointing his gloved finger at her as though she should _know _what he wanted from her.

As the macabre scene unfolded before her, three dead women lying in a pool of thickened blood, their bodies mutilated and scarred, she felt herself grow desperate, frustrated, _afraid_. She knew she had to get there, had to get to _him._

And then finally, _inexplicably _she crossed the yellow crime scene tape and hurried towards him; and, just as he came out of the shadows, and she saw his face...she woke up.

Screaming.

* * *

"**K**ate, what is it?"

Her eyes flew open and it took her a minute to orient herself. She was in the bathtub, the water tepid, the bubbles flattening, the echo of her scream still ringing through the bathroom.

She turned and looked at him, his face etched with concern as he knelt by the bathtub.

"Castle," she started.

He just stared at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes swimming with concern.

"I think I..." she paused, the haunting image of the man from her dream floating through her consciousness. "I think I know who..."

"Kate, what are you talking about?" He felt her forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up. Did you take the Ibuprofen I left for you?"

"Castle. I _saw _him."

He was unfolding the towel and motioning for her to get out of the tub. "Saw who?"

She gripped his upper arm, her eyes frantic and terrified. She searched his face, trying to impress upon him the gravity of what she'd just figured out.

"Kate, what is it? Who did you see?"

"_Montgomery_," she whispered.

His head snapped up and he frowned.

"Castle. I saw Montgomery." She moved closer to him, her fingers digging into his forearm, water splashing over the side of the tub as she got to her knees. "He was," She paused.

"He was _what_?" He asked.

_"Alive!"_

**A/N: If you would like to see what this position would have looked like, do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I am happy to send you the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter (krdaniels)**

**Funny story. The day after I wrote this, I came down with a case of food poisoning and felt a lot like I describe Kate in this story. I remember thinking, crap, I've either got a serious case of writers empathy, or I'm taking "****research" entirely too seriously! LOL Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't worry, we'll have the sexy back in no time! :-)**


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